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THE SPOKEN WORD 

A MANUAL OF STORY-TELLING 
AND PUBLIC SPEAKING, IN- 
CLUDING DEBATING 



BY JOHN HENRY EVANS, A. B., 

Head of the Department of English, Latter-day Saints 

University, Salt Lake City, Utah 



" The first duty of man is to speak." — Stevenson 



SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH 

THE DESERET NEWS 

1916 



*0 



-rv 



BOOKS BY JOHN HENRY EVANS 

Black Gypsy and Other Stories 
How to Teach Religion (Joint Author) 
One Hundred Years of Mormonism 
The ' Spoken Word 
The Life Story of John Henry Smith 
(In preparation) 



Copyrighted, I916, kiJ^HN Henry Evans 

ftp* 

OCT 23 I9I6 

©CI.A438999 



PREFACE 

This book was written at the suggestion of 
Mr. Oscar Kirkham, Field-secretary of the 
Young Men's Mutual Improvement 'Associ- 
ation. It was read in manuscript by Mr. 
Edward H. Anderson, for the Young Men's, 
and by Miss Clarissa Beesley, for the Young 
Ladies' organization, to whom I express my 
appreciation for their approval. 

In writing the book, therefore, I had in 
mind primarily the contests in the Improve- 
ment Associations in story-telling, public 
speaking, and debating. But I have tried to 
make the work of wider general service. 
Hence I have had (in mind, secondly, the 
young missionary who has to speak in public 
and the religious teacher who is required to 
tell stories to her class in the Sunday School, 
the Primary Association, or the Religion 
Class. To these, I hope, "The Spoken 
Word" may be of some little value. 

As to the sources of my information, I 
have drawn freely, but not without due ac- 
[ 3 ] 



The Spoken Word 



knowledgment, from such general works on 
the subjects treated as are before the pub- 
lic. In an appendix I have given the prin- 
cipal works which I have consulted. I wish 
here to express my thanks to Elder Orson 
F. Whitney for the use of one of his ad- 
dresses. 

JOHN HENRY EVANS. 
Salt Lake City, August, 1916. 



[ 4 j 



TOPICAL CONTENTS 

Introduction 9 

Practice necessary 9 

In story-telling , 9 

In public speaking 10 

In debating 11 

Study of principles necessary 12 

In every activity of life 12 

In the art of speech especially IS 

Self-criticism necessary 16 

Through one's own observation 16 

Through the criticism ,of others 18 

Through application 18 

Story-Telling 21 

Preliminaries 23 

Use of the oral story 

In the family 23 

In the class-room 24 

In public 25 

Revival of the oral story 26 

The oral story in ancient times 26 

The oral story to-day 28 

Training necessary for story-telling. ... 30 

Conditions in the early days 30 

Conditions now 31 

Essentials in training 32 

Study 32 

Practice 32 

The Audience 34 

Children under twelve 34 

Young men and women 41 

The general audience 42 

The Story 46 

Where to get suitable stories 46 

Essentials of a good story 47 

Interest 47 

Moral significance 48 

Art in the telling 49 

[ 5 ] 



The Spoken Word 



Place to get stories 51 

The Bible 51 

The Book of Mormon 51 

Church history 51 

Other sources 51 

Structure of the story 52 

Value of a knowledge of structure 52 

The beginning 

Must awaken interest 54 

Must carry hearer quickly into action 54 

The middle 

Must have a theme to develop 57 

Must develop that theme 58 

Must rise to a climax 58 

Structure illustrated 60 

Kinds of stories 64 

Fables — should they be used? 64 

Fairl-tales — should they be told? 66 

Legends — their uses 69 

The Story-Teller 71 

Feel just right as to 

Wanting to know your story 71 

Wishing to do well 73 

Working hard 73 

Things not to do 75 

Don't read your story 76 

Don't memorize your story 76 

Don't get the children to help you — out 

loud 77 

Don't talk down to the children 78 

Don't explain, or comment, overmuch... 79 

Don't wander 79 

Things to do 80 

Use good language 80 

Make important things stand out 81 

Use conversation where you can 81 

Make judicious use of the pause 82 

Public Speaking 85 

Value of public speaking. 87 

It trains the mind to think 87 

It helps men to be useful 89 

[ 6 ] 



Topical Contents 



Trimming down a subject 92 

Have something to say 92 

Say only one thing 93 

Try to be original 95 

How a theme grows 98 

Think yourself empty 

By thinking yourself 98 

By forming the habit 

Of seeking clearness 100 

Of seeking order 101 

Of seeking independent conclusions. 102 

Read yourself full 104 

Then read specific works. ... 104 

Talk yourself clear 105 

How talking helps 105 

How others have done it 106 

The Divisions of a Speech 108 

The beginning should be 

Striking 108 

Brief 109 

Interesting 110 

The Middle should 

Progress with the idea 110 

Give a clear impression of progress Ill 

The conclusion should 

Conclude, really and truly 115 

By merely concluding 116 

By summing up 117 

By making an appeal 117 

Debating 118 

Helpful Suggestions 173 

Subjects for speeches 174 

Questions for debate 175 

List of reference books 177 

Value of debating 

In training the mind 118 

In practical use 120 

Wording of a question 121 

Gathering material 122 

Studying the question as a whole 123 

Looking into your mind 123 

[ 7 ] 



The Spoken Word 



Getting your issues 123 

Arguing a proposition 125 

Opening statement 125 

Argument proper 127 

Conclusion — rebuttal 127 

What proof is 128 

Facts and evidence 128 

Reasoning experience 128 

Making a brief 133 

What a brief is 134 

Illustration of brief 134 

Management of a debate 136 

Teams 136 

Parts of 136 

Order of speaking 137 

Chairman's duties 137 

Salutation 137 

Judges 138 

Delivery 

Where to carry a speech 139 

Conversational delivery 141 

Illustrations of a speech 

Address by O. F. Whitney 147 

Part of Speech by Burke 160 



[ 8 ] 



INTRODUCTION 

THE USE OF THE TONGUE 

To become proficient in story-telling and 
public-speaking, including the debate, three 
things are indispensable : abundant practice, 
a careful study of the general principles of 
the art of speech, and constant and persistent 
self-criticism with a view to improvement. 

Practice Much. 

The first of these — plenty of practice — 
lies ready to the hand of any young person 
in the Church who is at all ambitious to suc- 
ceed in the art of speech. 

Consider, first of all, the opportunities our 
young men and women have for the use of 
the story-teller's art. If they are Sunday 
school teachers or teachers in the Primary 
Association, the Religion Class, or one of 
the Improvement organizations, they will 
[ 9 ] 



The Spoken Word 



be called upon to test their ability as a story- 
teller very frequently, and more frequently 
as time goes on, since the story is increas- 
ingly regarded as one of the most popular 
and powerful means of entertainment and 
instruction at our disposal. And nearly 
every adult among us, as a matter of fact, 
is in one or more of these organizations. 
Besides, the home is made more of by us 
than by most other people, and who 
that has anything to do with children in 
the home circle, whether in the capacity of 
parent or uncle or aunt or just a friend to 
the youngsters, but has a heavy tax levied 
upon his gift of story-telling? 

And what mere layman of any other reli- 
gious denomination has so many opportuni- 
ties for public speaking as does the average 
member of the "Mormon" Church? Our 
preaching being done mainly by the lawyer, 
the doctor, the teacher, the business man, 
the farmer, the mechanic, and the man of no 
particular calling, instead of by a class of 
men who make preaching a profession, every 
one in the Church with the least disposition 
[10] 



The Use of the Tongue 



to do so, even women, may obtain practice 
in this activity out of all proportion to his 
special training in this art. In the sacra- 
ment meetings, in the mission-field at home 
and abroad, there is a very great demand 
for public speaking. And not only so, the 
demand is increasing every year for both 
quantity and quality. 

Finally, there is debating. If we use the 
word in its broad sense, there is even more 
debating within the Church, and always has 
been, than of story-telling or of preaching 
as it is generally understood in other 
churches. "Mormonism", being new to the 
world, has had to fight its way as no other 
religious organization has done since the 
primitive Church, and, fighting its way 
everywhere, it has developed a strong argu- 
mentative tone. Almost every gospel con- 
versation is sure to grow into a miniature 
debate if it continue long enough. Indeed, 
"Mormon" discourses when closely exam- 
ined reveal more argument than narration 
or description or even exposition. Every 
Latter-day Saint who uses his tongue at all 
[11] 



The Spoken Word 



in defense of his faith indulges in informal 
debate. 

Here, then, lie opportunities for the prac- 
tice of the art of oral speech that are not 
offered so numerously to young people of 
any other community. No wonder a non- 
"Mormon" business man in Utah said before 
an audience the other day that he believed 
he would join the "Mormon" Church, if for 
no other reason than to get practice in pub- 
lic speaking and thus overcome his embar- 
rassment every time he spoke in public. If 
any young person in the Church, therefore, 
wishes to excel in the various forms of this 
art of using the tongue let him avail him- 
self of every chance that comes in his way 
to practice it. 

Study Principles 

But practice alone is not enough, else the 
Latter-day Saints would be the best story- 
tellers, the best preachers, and the best de- 
baters in the world. One must also study 
the principles of these arts, for there are 
effective and ineffective ways of doing them. 
[12] 



The Use of the Tongue 



Why do you listen like a two years' child 
to the telling of a story by one person and 
turn a deaf ear to that of another? Why 
do you strain your attention when this man 
preaches and fall asleep over the preaching 
of that one, or bring on a nervous break- 
drown by trying out of courtesy to keep 
awake? Partly because of that mysterious 
something we call personality; for, primar- 
ily, Captain Delightful pleases us in story 
or sermon for the simple reason that he is 
Captain Delightful and not Theophrastus 
Dryasdust. But it is partly too because he 
who pleases us in the employment of the art 
of speech observes, whether he knows it or 
not, certain basic principles that lie at the 
foundation of the art. 

For there are in all arts, not the least 
in the art of speech, fundamental princi- 
ple^, to observe which is absolutely neces- 
sary if we would be proficient therein. 

Take farming, for instance. What boots 

it to love the farm never so ardently, to 

plant yourself on a quarter-section of land 

with animals and the necessary implements, 

[13] 



The Spoken Word 



and to plug away till you wear yourself to 
the bone trying to wrest a living from the 
earth, if you do not know something about 
the chemistry of the soil, the behavior of 
plants, the economy of effort and product, 
the availability of the market, and the means 
and the laws of transportation? I am not 
saying how you shall obtain this knowledge ; 
I am merely insisting that you must have it 
in order to succeed on the farm to-day. Put 
two men at work in the field, one with and 
the other without such knowledge, and you 
will quickly see the difference working itself 
out in the situation. 

What is true of farming is true of any 
piece of work at which the hand of man ex- 
pends effort. Can the carpenter build a 
house without first having learned? Does 
a shoemaker cobble by instinct rather than 
by study and practice? Would you trust a 
watchmaker to take out your appendix? 
These things are so obvious that they have 
merely to be mentioned for the general idea 
to be seen and acknowledged. To learn to 
do well anything done with the hand, then, it 
[14] 



The Use of the Tongue 



is necessary not only to practice doing it 
but along with the practice to study the 
principles that lie at the heart of whatever 
we are trying to do. 

And does any one suppose that it is differ- 
ent in respect to the use of the tongue? Be 
not deceived : whatsoever a man soweth, that 
shall he also reap — in speech as in conduct. 
There is a difference between using the 
tongue and using it well. In speech as in 
everything else that we do there are certain 
great underlying laws, which one must ob- 
serve in order to be effective in this art. Of 
two persons who speak in public, for in- 
stance, one is effective, others things being 
equal, because he observes these laws, and 
the other is ineffective because he does not 
observe them. This is the simple truth. And 
again I do not say how or where the suc- 
cessful preacher shall find these laws, I am 
but emphasizing the fact that use them he 
must. And I do not know that there is a 
better way to do a thing than to be aware 
of how it is to be done. Nor is it any dif- 
ferent with the other forms of art we 
[15] 



The Spoken Word 



are discussing here. Of course, some public 
speakers and story-tellers, like some farmers, 
pick up the essentials of these arts as they 
go, without any study of principles. That, 
however, is a long, a hard, a costly, and gen- 
erally an ineffective way of acquiring them. 
A farmer may require ten years to discover 
by this means what his son learns at school 
in a single recitation or experiment. And 
so it is in the art of using the tongue. One 
may blunder along the way to success 
through a series of painful embarrassments, 
whereas he might attain a higher goal 
sooner and with less effort by taking advan- 
tage of the blunders and successes of those 
who have gone before. 

Criticise Yourself 

The third requisite to effectiveness in the 

spoken word is self-criticism looking toward 

improvement. 

To attempt a piece of work one wishes to 
do, even though one should utterly fail, al- 
ways whets the appetite for any bit of 
knowledge that may be of aid in a second 
[16] 



The Use of the Tongue 



attempt. It makes the eyes keen to see, to 
weigh and consider, to apply. 

Self-criticism implies, first of all, that a 
standard of excellence in the various phases 
of the art of speech has been accepted. This 
standard is, of course, derived from the 
practice of the best story-tellers and speak- 
ers. Nothing- short of the best should sat- 
isfy us. And we may know this best partly 
through a study of books on these subjects 
and partly through our own observation of 
what those do whom it is our fortune to 
hear. Nor should we be content with a 
vague, general notion of what constitutes 
good story-telling and good public speaking. 
Our ideas on these uses of the tongue should 
be clear and distinct. 

Self-criticism implies, secondly, that we 
ascertain what our own practice of these arts 
is, with a view to measuring it by this stand- 
ard. We may discover our own practice in 
two ways. We may ourselves see the merits 
and the defects of our speech. Some per- 
sons are not naturally critical. They do not 
observe carefully. They take things tor 
[17] 



The Spoken Word 



granted. But observation and reflection are 
indispensable to improvement in any line of 
activity. It is especially so in the arts we are 
considering here. We should notice in what 
respects we are doing well, as compared with 
others, and in what respects we are doing 
badly. And then, again, we may learn our 
virtues and defects from our friends. Gen- 
erally speaking, people of the artistic tem- 
perament are more or less inclined to resent 
criticism by others unless that criticism is 
favorable. This is a mistake. Blessed is he 
who has a frank, critical friend, and profits 
by his criticism. Emerson once thanked a 
friend who pointed out that this great 
writer had used a certain word too often in 
one of his essays — a fact that had escaped 
Emerson's eye. Our own observation, then, 
and the observation and criticism of our 
friends ought to serve pretty well to enable 
us to ascertain wherein we are short and 
wherein we are long in this matter of speech. 
Self-criticism, thirdly, implies a strong 
desire to correct one's defects and to culti- 
vate one's virtues. It is of no value to rec- 
[18] 



The Use of the Tongue 



ognize a praiseworthy thing in our speech 
if we do not intend to improve it. Similarly 
it is worse than useless to know our short- 
comings without following up that knowl- 
edge by overcoming them. All growth in 
these matters consists in alteration for the 
better. Demosthenes, it is said, observing 
that he had a bad habit of shrugging his 
shoulders, that he stuttered, and that his 
voice was weak, practiced speaking before 
the boisterous seawaves, his mouth half filled 
with pebbles, and the sharp point of a sword 
just above his shoulder. Thus, by persistent 
attention to a standard of oratory, on the 
one hand, and to his defects, on the other 
hand, with a view to their removal, this 
noted Grecian became the greatest of the 
world's orators. 

A word of caution is necessary here. It 
is possible to become too critical. Always 
one's standard is higher than one's practice. 
Too much attention, therefore, upon the dif- 
ference between attainment and the standard 
to be attained is likely to paralyze all effort. 
I once knew a student in composition whose 
[19] 



The Spoken Word 



theory ran so far ahead of his practice as 
to discourage him completely from writing- 
themes. The safest thing to do perhaps is 
to steer between the scylla of no self-criti- 
cism at all and the charybdis of too much 
self-criticism. 

Thus we have the circle complete — prac- 
tice, study, self-criticism, and practice 
again in an improved form. Practice of any 
art shows us where we lack, a study of the 
principles of the art informs us how to 
supply this lack, and the natural desire for 
efficiency through the art will enable us to 
apply these principles in our subsequent 
practice. Here lies the road to an effective 
use of the tongue. 



[20] 



PART ONE 

STORY-TELLING 

Let me tell the stories and I care not who 
writes the text-books. — G. Stanley Hall. 



CHAPTER ONE 

PRELIMINARIES 

It is doubtful whether there is in all the 
world another community which has so large 
a use for the oral story as do the Latter-day 
Saints. 

Uses of the Oral Story 
We are essentially, to begin with, a peo- 
ple of large families. An educational sur- 
vey of Salt Lake City, made in 1915, shows 
that this city must provide fifty per cent 
more teachers and buildings per one thou- 
sand of its total population than do such 
cities as Seattle, Portland, Sacramento, or 
San Francisco, and thirty per cent more than 
Tacoma or Denver. And it is probable that 
the percentage is greater in communities 
wholly "Mormon." For babies are proverb- 
ially Utah's best crop. 

But children in the home have a craving 
[23] 



The Spoken Word 



for the oral story. In truth, this is where it 
first manifests itself. Nowhere else is the 
demand of childhood so insistent. They 
therefore levy a heavy tribute on the story- 
telling gift in whoever is around them — 
parent, uncle or aunt, or the kindly stranger 
that is within their gates. It is difficult to 
imagine a more beautiful and wholesome 
scene than one where all the members of the 
family are gathered round the hearth listen- 
ing to stories told by father or mother or one 
of the older children. And there is perhaps 
more of this to be found in Latter-day Saint 
homes than elsewhere partly because there 
are always enough persons there to make a 
circle (even four cannot form a circle, you 
know) and partly because there have been 
established in many wards what is called the 
home night, when story-telling comes much 
into requisition. 

And then, too, we Latter-day Saints have 
more educational institutions in our Church 
than any other religious denomination. In- 
deed, almost the entire machinery of the 
Church is educational in its aim. There are 
[24] 



Preliminaries 



the Sunday Schools, including persons of all 
ages from the kindergarten to the parents' 
department ; the Primary Association and 
the Religion Class, enrolling children be- 
tween four and fourteen; the Mutual Im- 
provement Associations, whose membership 
comprises young men and women above the 
age of fourteen; and, finally, the quorums 
of priesthood, including boys and men from 
the deacon to the high priest. In all of 
these organizations there is teaching done, 
more or less by means of the oral story. 

In addition, however, to the home and the 
class recitation held in the various organiza- 
tions named above, there are other occasions 
for the use of oral story-telling among us. 
One of these is the social gathering, which 
is as common with us as with other people. 
And who is in greater demand in the social 
circle than he who can tell a story well ? An- 
other is the public rostrum. We do more 
preaching than any other church. With us 
all are expected to do more or less public 
speaking. Now, the story, although not so 
much used by us in sermons as by other 
[25] 



The Spoken Word 



preachers, and not so much used as it should 
be, constitutes really an essential part of all 
public address. Lastly, there is ward teach- 
ing, a distinctively "Mormon" institution. 
While no use to speak of has been made of 
the oral story in this religious activity, there 
is not only no reason why it should not be 
used, but a very excellent reason why it 
should be. For the ward teacher is supposed 
to entertain and instruct the children in the 
families whom he visits as well as the father 
and the mother, the youth and the maiden. 

When, therefore, we look about us and 
see the ever-increasing opportunities for the 
use of the story-telling gift among our peo- 
ple, we begin to wonder at the prospect for 
the art there is in all our communities. 

Revival of the Oral Story 

As a matter of fact, not only here but 

throughout the United States and the 

world, the oral story is at last coming to its 

own. 

Once upon a time, when the race was in 
its childhood and adolescence, oral story-tell- 
[26] 



Preliminaries 



ing was almost the only educational means 
available. Our forefathers, in those remote 
days before the invention of printing and 
before schools were established, gathered 
their children about them and told then 
stories of the chase and of whatever else they 
wished handed down to posterity for their 
edification and entertainment. The early 
history of every nation of which we have 
any knowledge is full of stories that went 
from mouth to mouth, as witness the bard in 
ancient Greece, the gleeman in early Eng- 
land, the troubadour in France, and the min- 
nesinger in Germany. Jesus was the master 
story-teller of ancient times, and that is why, 
for one thing, "the common people heard 
him gladly." 

Nor has the practice died out among such 
primitive peoples as exist to-day. Up 
there in the land of the Eskimo the story 
is still the chief instrument of transmitting 
from father to son the heroic deeds of these 
blubber-eating, walrus-fighting folk. Only, 
the circle of hearers there includes the older 
members of the community as well, and the 
[27] 



The Spoken Word 



tale is stretched out for days and months, 
after the fashion of our printed serials. 
Lummis tells us that the tribes of the Pueblo 
Indians "have regular story-tellers, men who 
have devoted a great deal of time to learning 
the myths and stories of their people and 
who possess, in addition to a good memory, 
a vivid imagination. The mother sends for 
one of these, and having spread a feast for 
him, she and her little brood, who are curled 
up near her, await the fairy stories of the 
dreamer, who after his feast and smoke en- 
tertains the company for hours." 

But as our race grew into bumptious 
manhood it became absorbed in more serious 
things, as it thought, and so left off the culti- 
vation of the story-teller's art, except as a 
source of amusement when the long winter 
evenings bore down heavily upon its spirits. 
Now, however, that the age of the child 
has dawned upon us, there is naturally a re- 
turn to the oral story as a means to some- 
thing higher than mere entertainment. 

The revival was begun by Froebel. Story- 
telling forms a large and indispensable part 
[28] 



Preliminaries 



of his educational system. And to-day the 
ability to tell a story well is generally re- 
garded as a necessary qualification of the 
teacher of children. The Sunday School 
throughout the world, not to be behind-hand, 
has adopted the story as a means of inculcat- 
ing moral and religious truth, thus laying a 
new obligation upon the teachers in this 
great organization. Such noted preachers 
as Spurgeon, Talmage, Moody, and 
Beecher used the story freely in their ser- 
mons. So, too, do modern public speakers 
generally, whether to relieve the hearers' 
minds in the midst of weighter forms or to 
point a truth. Classes are formed in schools 
and libraries to train teachers in story- 
telling and to entertain and instruct children. 
Books and periodicals are published every 
year giving information on this subject. 

Among our own people, too, there has 
been an awakening in this respect, but it is 
doubtful whether we are yet more than half 
aware of the high educational value of the 
story and of the necessity of cultivating the 
art of telling stories. 

[29] 



The Spoken Word 



Training Necessary 

It is surprising, when you stop to think of 
it, how little the art of story-telling has been 
cultivated among us. And this fact is the 
more surprising in view of our great need 
for it, the excellent material we have always 
had at our command, and the alertness we 
have generally shown for effective means of 
conveying our message to others. Our 
preachers have made far less use of the story 
than one would have expected under the cir- 
cumstances. Pulpit energy has been ex- 
pended mostly in exposition and argument. 
Our auxiliary organizations, to be sure, 
have always -made more or less use of the 
story-telling art. But who, until very re- 
cently, has regarded any special training as 
necessary to the proper telling of stories? 
Said an influential man the other day to a 
friend of mine who writes : "Why do you 
waste your talent writing stories for chil- 
dren? Why don't you write something 
higher ?" For many of the older generation, 
being practical, as they say, look upon the 
maker of stories, especially for children, as 
[30] 



Preliminaries 



distinctly inferior in calling to the man who 
cans milk or raises hogs. 

The reason for our not having taken 
earlier to the cultivation of this art is not far 
to seek. Most of the early Saints were New 
Englanders, who time out of mind had cul- 
tivated a sober outlook on the world. And 
joining "Mormonism", they found, called 
for courage; and the faith being unpopular, 
required as much courage to remain with it. 
They were, therefore, sober, earnest men 
and women who connected themselves with 
the new religion. Then, again, our people 
from the first were driven from pillar to 
post, and later planted in an inhospitable 
country, where it demanded every effort to 
wrest a bare subsistence from the soil. Hence 
there was no leisure, during these years, to 
reflect that art is ever the handmaid of truth 
and that an idea may be made more attract- 
ive by taking thought as to its form. 

But happily that time is gone. We are 
now free from opposition, we are prosper- 
ous and at peace, and we have some leisure 
for the cultivation of the mind. There is no 
[31] 



The Spoken Word 



reason, therefore, why all the forms of art 
— sculpture, architecture, painting, litera- 
ture, and music — should not receive the 
share they deserve of this spare time. And 
not the least of the art forms should be that 
of telling a story. 

For there is an art of the oral story. 
The telling of a story by one person is effect- 
ive and by another person ineffective. There 
are some things to learn. If one is to tell 
stories to children, one should know the 
characteristics and instincts that make their 
appearance at various stages of childhood. 
For the same story will not necessarily suit 
all ages. Then one who aims to excel as a 
story-teller ought to know how a story is 
put together. Finally, the prospective story- 
teller should learn some of the faults that 
creep into story-telling in order to avoid 
them, and he should study the devices of 
voice and manner and form which success- 
ful story-tellers have found useful in their 
practice. Of course, one may acquire a cer- 
tain amount of proficiency in this art by ob- 
servation and practice, especially if he have 
[32] 



Preliminaries 



a good deal of native ability to begin with; 
but conscious art — conscious in the sense 
that it knows what it is doing and why it is 
doing it — is the most successful in the long 
run. And then there must be a great deal 
of persistent practice in story-telling. Who- 
ever desires to succeed as a story-teller must 
make up his mind to become thoroughly fa- 
miliar with the story before he tells it, to 
give himself wholly to the story and to the 
audience, to make it the possession not of the 
memory merely, but of the heart as well. 



[33] 



CHAPTER TWO 

THE AUDIENCE 

A story-teller naturally shrinks from boring 
his audience. The first requisite, therefore, 
to all good story-telling is to have an appro- 
priate and entertaining story to tell. But 
how is one to know beforehand what stories 
will hold the attention of any particular 
group ? The answer is simple : Consider the 
natural interests of your hearers and the 
particular conditions under which the story 
is to be given. 

Stories for Children 

First of all, stories will be told to children, 
either in the home or in the organizations of 
the Church,. 

Children under twelve years of age are 
"the echoes of the vaster, richer life of the 
remote past." They love the field, the for- 
[34] 



The Audience 



est, the water, flowers, and animals. Books 
are usually distasteful to them. Their bodies 
cry out for the open air and for the object- 
ive life it offers. Living in the plane of the 
instincts and the imagination, they do not 
trouble their heads about distinctions be- 
tween the real and the unreal, the true and 
the untrue, which are so bothersome to 
grown-ups. Moreover, their minds are ever 
exploring the world of nature and of men, as 
of one who would get information and ex- 
perience first-hand. 

These native desires and primitive condi- 
tions pre-determine the kinds of stories they 
like. 

They are fond of stories about other chil- 
dren. This fact is confirmed not only by 
specialists in child psychology, but by com- 
mon observation. Stories from the Old 
Testament, like the infancy of Moses ; stories 
from the New Testament, like the childhood 
or Jesus and stores from our own Church 
history, of which there is a great abundance, 
all find a ready and instinctive response in 
children of this period. 
[35] 



The Spoken Word 



They like stories of animals and out-of- 
doors. "Kittens, dogs, squirrels, birds, in- 
sects make a fascinating appeal to their at- 
tention, and plants, stars, clouds, and winds 
really stir the same kind of interest, for 
the child endows them all with life and feel- 
ing like his own. It is because of this ani- 
mistic tendency of the child that stories of 
the persevering raindrop and the benevolent 
sunbeam kind do not repel him as they do 
his older brother or sister." 

They like stories of wonder and miracle. 
It is a matter of common observation that 
stories of primitive conditions, whether of 
the imagination or of actual fact, are found 
interesting at this age — myths, fairy-tales, 
and legends. And this is the case not be- 
cause of the supernatural or miraculous ele- 
ment in them, for this sort of thing is of one 
texture with the normal life of the child un- 
der twelve. Fairies, gnomes, giants "are 
really but children masquerading in other 
forms." It is the same with stories of the 
miraculous from sacred literature. Children 
of this period find little or no difficulty in the 
[36] 



The Audience 



story of Jesus feeding the multitude with a 
few fishes and loaves of bread, or in the nar- 
rative of the finger of God touching the 
stones Jared's brother had prepared and 
making them luminous, or in Moroni and 
the book of the golden plates. 

In this stage of children's lives, especially 
the oral story should, first, feed that passion 
already in them for dramatic joy; secondly, 
develop their sense of humor, without which 
they will never be able to see life in its true 
proportions; thirdly, train in them the all 
too undeveloped sense of causality, that 
every act is followed by its consequences ; 
fourthly, place before them in a form that 
they can grasp — that is, concretely in char- 
acters acting out their parts — ideals which 
will presently be realized in their own lives ; 
and lastly, cultivate their imagination, by 
which alone one is able to enter sympathet- 
ically into another person's life. In a word, 
the story ought to give the children as many 
vicarious experiences as possible of a large, 
varied, and useful character. 



[37] 



The Spoken Word 



Stories for Boys and Girls 
After the period of childhood comes the 
period of adolescence. There are two of 
these stages, more or less distinct: early 
adolescence and late. Let us take each of 
these separately. 

The early adolescents include persons, 
roughly speaking, in their teens. This is 
often termed the egoistic stage. It is a period 
when the new self is born. The social in- 
stincts do not appear to any great extent till 
toward the end. It is a time of self-confi- 
dence, when the youth "is able to do single- 
handed what the world's wisest have some- 
how failed to reach." Nature's aim during 
this period "seems to be chiefly to develop 
virtues of the more egoistic type." Uncon- 
sciously to the boy and girl the instincts are 
reaching out for models that are to shape 
character more or less permanently. Al- 
though a period of great danger, it is never- 
theless one of great opportunity. 

The central element in the stories told 
during this period of life should involve 
heroism in some form or other. This is 
[38] 



The Audience 



true of both girls and boys, but especially 
of boys. They do not like the commonplace 
in life, whether actual or imaginative. The 
sensational is apt to be in great demand. 
Nor is the taste for heroic qualities likely 
to be very discriminating just at this time. 
In the absence of stories of the better class 
the boy of this period will most probably 
take to narratives of the pugilist, the bandit, 
and the highway robber, particularly in the 
early teens. Boys and girls of this stage 
are not, as some appear to think, disinclined 
to stories that show heroism at its best. As 
a matter of fact, they prefer such stories, 
provided their taste for the other sort has 
not been allowed to run riot. But the story 
must be one that stirs the enthusiasm of 
young manhood and womanhood. 

"In these stories," says Professor St. John, 
"concreteness should be the aim, but the real 
emphasis should be on the character that in- 
spires the deed rather than on the act itself 
or even the consequences that follow it. 
Particularly in the latter part of the first 
stage of adolescence, when biographical 
[39] 



The Spoken Word 



stories will be especially prominent, the focus 
of attention should further be shifted from 
the traits of character to the struggles and 
choices which shape the character itself. This 
will be accomplished largely by telling of 
the really critical events of a life and giving 
clear indication of the alternative lines of 
conduct that are open. Thus the youth is 
helped to see how victories over self are usu- 
ally the key to victories over men." 

Material for such stories, whether in the 
raw or the finished form, is abundant. One 
may wish to tell stories to be found in classic 
legend, in fiction, in history, or in modern 
biography. Or one may prefer to tell stories 
from the Bible and the Book of Mormon, 
not to speak of the mine of unworked nar- 
rative in our own religious history. No bet- 
ter opportunity could be desired for intro- 
ducing young people to religion than to tell 
them of the heroism which, in Christian his- 
tory and later in our own day, has been ex- 
hibited by men and women for their convic- 
tions. Gradually, as this stage draws to a 
close, the stories told should possess an in- 
[40] 



The Audience 



creasing element of self-sacrifice, social serv- 
ice, even love of enemies. 

Stories for Young Persons 
Young persons between the teens and about 
twenty-five years constitute, speaking gen- 
erally again, the third group — the later ado- 
lescents. 

The dominant interest in this period cen- 
ters in love. This shows itself in the latter 
part of the earlier stage, and appears sooner 
in girls than in boys, but it develops mainly 
in this period. "Interest in purely unselfish 
life of service for others," says Professor St. 
John, "finds considerable manifestation in 
middle adolescence, but it is after the seven- 
teenth or eighteenth year that it reaches its 
larger development. So strong is the in- 
stinctive tendency toward altruism that often 
self-sacrifice becomes a pleasure, and is 
sought almost as an end in itself." 

Accordingly, the stories that are liked dur- 
ing this period are those where the element 
of love in one form or another and of serv- 
ice and devotion to an ideal is strong. Here 
]41] 



The Spoken Word 



is where narratives of the great religious 
teachers find a ready response. There is no 
better time than this for the life of our 
Savior. If fiction be desired, preference 
should be given to that sort which finds an 
appeal to wholesome sentiment rather than 
romantic sentimentality, which has its basis 
in solid reality, and which depicts moral 
cleanliness rather than the morbid and gross 
phases of passion so common in fiction now- 
adays. 

The General Audience 

There are other audiences, however, besides 
children and young persons before which it 
may be necessary for the story-teller to ap- 
pear. Indeed, the contests in story-telling, 
recently begun in the Improvement Associa- 
tions, give a distinct turn to this art as a 
popular means of entertainment, and as such 
it should be encouraged. 

One of these may be a group of kindred 
spirits met to spend the time in a more prof- 
itable way than card-playing. Such per- 
sons may be young or old, their purpose may 
[42] 



The Audience 



be serious or light, but in any event the aim 
they have in gathering will be an index to 
the kind of stories which ought to be told 
there. 

Or again, it may be a popular audience 
that the story is to be told to. 

Why should we not have and encourage 
professional story-tellers, just as we now 
have and encourage professional singers, 
actors, readers, and speakers ? Surely there 
is as much pleasure and benefit to be derived 
out of public story-telling as out of any of 
these forms of public entertainment, and 
surely there is as good a field for this activ- 
ity in our "Mormon" communities as can 
be found anywhere else in the world. Nor 
is there any doubt that we have the talent 
necessary to success in this kind of public 
work, if properly trained. Young persons 
hereabouts frequently spend money and time 
learning to sing, to play a musical instru- 
ment, and to read before the public, not be- 
cause they expect to make a livelihood out 
of it, but because exhibiting their talents in 
these ways gratifies a natural and beneficent 
[43] 



The Spoken Word 



instinct in them and in us all for public ap- 
pearance. Why has no one among our peo- 
ple studied the art of story-telling as they 
have music and elocution and public speak- 
ing ? I commend this suggestion to the con- 
sideration of our young men and women. 

Since a popular audience is likely to be 
composed of persons of all ages, one must 
have some other guide to the selection of 
stories to tell on such occasions than that 
which I have already given for children and 
adolescents. That guide lies in this prac- 
tical rule : those stories that have an appeal 
to the deeper, and therefore universal, qual- 
ities in human nature, rather than to those 
characteristics that are the result of educa- 
tion and environment. 

Any story, other things being the same, 
which appeals strongly to the instinct of love 
is likely to interest a popular audience. Love 
of parent for child, love of the sexes for each 
other, love of friends, love for the truth, love 
of country — all these are basic in their ap- 
peal and grip our deepest feelings. Again, 
the love of battle is a strong instinct, and 
[44] 



The Audience 



therefore universal. We like to see a strug- 
gle, physical, mental, or moral. Especially 
do we like a contest where evil is pitted 
against good, and where the better forces 
triumph. This is what the motion picture 
men call punch. If the elements of love 
and conflict are united, as is generally done, 
interest is greatly increased. Hence, the 
more the fundamental feelings in us are ap- 
pealed to, the more likely the story is to in- 
terest all classes. 

Examine the most popular, lasting stories 
and see if this is not the case: Joseph in 
Egypt, "Ruth", Esther", "Judith", "The 
Ugly Duckling", "The Other Wise Man", 
"Where Love Is There God Is Also", and 
many others that could be named. The se- 
cret of the universal interest in Homer, in 
the writers of the Bible, and in Shakspere 
lies in the fact that these authors depict lu- 
cidly the primary qualities and motives of 
action in man. It is a good practice to read 
stories for the purpose of ascertaining the 
range of their appeal. 



[45] 



CHAPTER THREE 

THE STORY 

Having in mind the audience before which 
you are to appear, whether it is composed 
of children in a class, young people in a 
social gathering, or the general public, you 
now look about for a story that will answer 
your purpose. But this and the telling of 
a story implies that you know where to get 
suitable stories, that you know how to 
choose among them, and that you know 
something about the way stories are put to- 
gether. These points, therefore, I shall con- 
sider in this chapter. 

Where to Get Stories 

And first as to where to look for stories. 

The easiest way to get a story is to ask 

someone to select one for you. But this, 

like all other easiest ways, is also the laziest 

and, generally, the most unsatisfactory 

[46] 



The Story 



way. The only real service in this respect 
that others can be to us is to tell us where 
stories or the material for stories may be 
found. You should, knowing this, do your 
own reading and picking. Time ? Well, life 
is not so short as some people make out, 
when you garner the odd moments. Use 
some of these in which to stock your mind 
with good stories to tell. And it will be the 
more necessary for you to do this if you 
are to accomplish much in the telling of 
stories. So, then, my first counsel is to read 
much and widely. 

But it is often not easy to tell a good 
story when one sees it. A story is worth 
while when it answers two tests — content 
and form; that is, what is it about? and how 
is it worked up? Form I shall not concern 
myself with here, not only because it is not 
of great practical utility and is besides evas- 
ive, but especially because it can usually be 
determined by who wrote it? But content 
I shall consider, as being more important 
and easier to comprehend. 

A good story, in addition to being inter- 
im ] 



The Spoken Word 



esting, must mean something, have a moral 
significance. Especially is this true of stories 
that are intended for children and young 
persons. Mr. Galsworthy makes one of his 
characters in his "Island Pharisees" say of 
a certain story with a thrilling plot that "it 
had been contrived to throw light on nothing 
whatever". Stories that are worth telling 
throw light on something. Few serious- 
minded persons have any patience with peo- 
pleo who talk glibly about "art for art's sake" 
(whatever this may mean) in connection 
with story-telling. True art is ever the hand- 
maid of science, of substance, form has no 
meaning apart from content. The best pic- 
tures, the best sculpture, the best music, 
mean something. So, too with the best 
stories. Poe is probably the greatest represen- 
tative in American literature of the doctrine 
of the inutility of the artistic, and his writ- 
ings exemplify this idea. In the "Raven", 
the "Bells", and the Gold Bug", which are 
among his most popular works, there is 
either no significance at all or — what 
amounts to the same thing — the significance 
[48] 



The Story 



is so hidden as to escape the average reader. 
Hawthorne, on the other hand, is the best 
type of men of letters in this country who 
unite the artistic with the useful, as witness 
"The Great Stone Face" and the "Scarlet 
Letter." And Hawthorne is viewed in Eu- 
rope as one of two American writers that 
have made contributions to world literature. 
The best stories are, to be sure, artistic, 
but they are also the most moral. I do not 
mean, of course, that they were written to 
preach a sermon, for Burroughs's command- 
ment, "Thou shalt not preach !" is carefully 
obesrved by the good story-teller. Never- 
theless they abound in sermons, or rather, 
their readers' minds abound in sermons. 
Take Shakspere's "Macbeth", for instance. 
This wonderful play was not, most likely, 
written to show that the virus of evil brings 
a man inevitably to death and the worms 
whenever he attempts to rise into power in 
the teeth of the eternal verities. Yet this, or 
something like this, every one gets who reads 
this great drama as its meaning. And some 
such hidden significance every important 
[49] 



The Spoken Word 



work of lierary art expresses. So, let me re- 
peat, every story you tell, especially to those 
whose ideals are forming, should have an 
uplift. 

Moreover, this meaning should be obvious 
to the hearer. Sometimes the fault of ob- 
scurity lies in the nature of the material we 
are endeavoring to work up into a story, 
sometimes in the way this material is laid be- 
fore the class or the general public. There 
are few things more annoying than to be told 
a story we do not understand the meaning of, 
or, understanding, we do not consider worth 
the telling. But neither should the meaning 
be too obvious. The hearer likes to gather 
this significance from a story as he does from 
life, instead of being told it outright. And 
this suggestive way of keeping the signifi- 
cance under the surface can be managed 
with just a little art in the telling. 

Akin to this is that we should be sure 
that we are giving the right meaning. Felix 
Adler instances such a misinterpretation in 
connection with the telling of the fable of 
the Oak and the Reed. "The fable teaches," 
[50] 



The Story 



he says, "the policy of utter, uncomplaining 
submission. The oak refuses to bend, and 
is broken. The supple reed yields to the 
blast, and is safe. Is it not a little aston- 
ishing that this fable should so often be re- 
lated to children as if it contained a moral 
which they ought to take to heart? To 
make it apply at all, it is usually twisted from 
its proper signification and explained as 
meaning that one should not be fool-hardy, 
not attempt to struggle against overwhelm- 
ing odds." 

As to the source of stories and of material 
for stories, a word will suffice. 

A vast amount of material for stories of 
a religious and moral nature can be found 
in the Bible, in the Book of Mormon, the 
History of the Church in six volumes, with 
more to follow, and in the biographies of 
our leading men. Whoever, therefore, 
wishes to stock up with this kind of stories 
should become familiar with these volumes. 

Material for other stories may be found in 
lists published by various institutions. "In- 
dex to Stories", by Grace E. Salsbury and 
[51] 



The Spoken Word 



Marie E. Beckwith (Rowe, Peterson and 
Co.) : "A List of Good Stories to Tell Chil- 
dren Under Twelve", published by the Car- 
negie Library of Pittsburg-; "Finding List of 
Fairy Tales and Folk Stories", published by 
the Boston Public Library — these will afford 
ample sources for a certain class of stories. 
As for other stories, there is "The Ameri- 
can Short-story Classics", published by Col- 
liers ; there is the "Library of American 
Stories" and the "Library of English Sto- 
ries", by the Success Publishing Co. ; and 
there is a series of short-stories put out by 
Scribners. Of course, no one who intends 
to do much in story-telling will neglect the 
current magazines, although these must be 
read with discrimination; as also must the 
separate authors who write and publish vol- 
umes of short-stories, like "O. Henry", 
Mark Twain, Kipling, and others. 

How to Begin a Story 

The story-teller, whether he retells or works 

up stories, should know the structure of a 

story. 

[52] 



The Story 



There are three parts to a story : the be- 
ginning, the middle, and the ending, each of 
which bears a definite relation to the other 
parts, and performs a clearly-defined func- 
tion in the development. 

Of what use is it to know how a story is 
put together? "The power quickly and ac- 
curately to analyze a story into its essential 
elements", says Professor St. John, "is the 
most fundamental and the most important 
part of the story-teller's theoretical training. 
It offers the certain means of determining 
whether a story is worth telling at all. It 
makes its retention by the memory a com- 
paratively simple matter. It makes it easy 
to condense a story that is too long, and fa- 
cilitates the successful expansion of one that 
is too brief. The importance of persistent 
drill in the performing of this process can 
hardly be over-emphasized." 

Every story must have a beginning. This 
statement appears so obvious as to seem un- 
necessary; but it is not, to judge by the 
way in which stories are sometimes told. 
"Though the beginning cannot be omitted 
[53] 



The Spoken Word 



it may be easily bungled. And it is as true 
of story-telling as of racing that a bad start 
means a handicap that cannot be overcome. 
It is because so few persons consider the 
way the story begins that so many fail at just 
this point." 

A story tells what happens to somebody 
somewhere. In other words, a story must 
have characters to whom something hap- 
pens, plot or a succession of happenings to 
these characters, and a situation where these 
occurrences take place — all of which, to- 
gether with a purpose in their setting forth, 
constitute the essential elements of a story. 

"The opening event", says Pitkin, "has 
two functions : it must awaken the reader's 
interest in the story and it must carry him 
quickly into the latter. Either function alone 
is easily managed, but to handle both at once 
demands considerable skill and frequently 
much experimenting." Yet the best-written 
and -told stories usually manage these two 
functions. And generally, too, the best stories 
have as short a beginning as is consistent 
with interest, clearness, and completeness. 
[54] 



The Story 



Poe, the great law-giver in the realm of the 
short-story, declares that the very first sen- 
tence should strike the keynote of the theme. 
Perhaps this is too rigid for the oral story, 
but certainly this keynote should come in the 
first paragraph. One remembers with de- 
light the satirical opening of Irving's "Knick- 
erbocker's History of New York", which de- 
tails the creation of the earth and the dis- 
covery of America, on the grounds that if 
these events had not occurred there would 
not have been any New York for him to de- 
scribe. But the story-teller will not imitate 
this sort of opening, although I have heard 
some openings perilously near it. Rather he 
will make his beginning as short as he can. 

There are five ways mentioned by Pro- 
fessor Pitkin of beginning a story. First, it 
may introduce the main characters, give the 
setting, and suggest the theme; secondly, it 
may introduce the main characters only; 
thirdly, it may give the setting only ; fourth- 
ly, it may suggest the theme only ; and, fifth- 
ly, it may start with a general statement of 
which the story is the concrete development. 
[55] 



The Spoken Word 



These are given in the order of their import- 
ance, the first being the best. It is a good 
practice to study the openings of as many 
stories as possible of the sort one is going 
to tell. 

Here are two instances of beginnings : 

Once upon a time, there was a Man and his 
Wife, and a Tertium Quid. 

All three were unwise, but the Wife was the un- 
wisest. The Man should have looked after his 
wife, who should have avoided the Tertium Quid, 
who, again, should have married a wife of his 
own, after clean and open flirtation, to which no- 
body can possibly object, round Jakko or Ob- 
servatory Hill. 

That is from Kipling. All the characters 
are introduced here. The theme is also given 
— perhaps too palpably, as Professor Pitkin 
observes. The opening does not occupy 
more than sixty-six words. The next is 
from Hans Christian Anderson's "Silver 
Shilling" : 

There was once a shilling which came forth 
from the mint springing and shouting, "Hurrah! 
Now I am going out into the wide world." 

This beginning is even shorter than Kip- 
[56] 



The Story 



ling's, but answers the two purposes of an 
opening — it awakens the hearer's interest 
and carries him at once into the action. 

How to Go on With a Story 

In the middle of a story there are three things 

to be looked after. 

In the first place, the story-teller must see 
to it that he has a theme to develop. In the 
short-story proper the principle is very rigid 
that there must be a single effect produced. 
Although this principle is operative also in 
stories that are told to children, still, as 
Felix Adler advises, it is not a good thing to 
make such stories taper toward a single 
point, the moral point. "You will squeeze 
all the juice out of it if you try. Do not 
subordinate the purely fanciful and natural- 
istic elements of the story, such as the love 
of mystery, the passion for roving, the sense 
of fellowship with the animal world, in order 
to fix attention solely on the moral element. 
On the contrary, you will gain the best moral 
effect by proceeding in exactly the opposite 
way. Treat the moral element as an inci- 
[57] 



The Spoken Word 



dent; emphasize it, indeed, but incidentally." 
Every story, in the second place, must 
have a sucession of events by which this 
theme is developed. If you study carefully 
any well constructed story, you will observe 
that the theme is developed by two or more 
incidents, according to its nature. Thus in 
the "Proud Cock", given in the next section 
but one, the theme is developed by means of 
three incidents. It is very essential that these 
events or incidents be presented in an order- 
ly manner. In any given story there is a 
sequence which serves best to bring out the 
theme of that story. Find it if you are tell- 
ing a story of your own invention; if not, 
follow the order of the story you are telling. 
It is provoking, to say the least, to hear a 
story-teller say a little way in the action, 
"Oh, I forgot to tell you — ." This is an 
awkward admission that something essen- 
tial has been left out of the earlier part, some 
fact or incident placed out of its natural 
order. Such bungling as this can be reme- 
died by careful study beforehand and abund- 
ant practice. 

[58] 



The Story 



In the third place, these events should lead 
inevitably to a climax. A string- of incidents 
is not a story, no matter how closely they 
are connected. They must be arranged in 
such a way as to lead somewhere. The 
mind needs to be made to look forward all 
the time till the very end. And this is done 
by means of selecting the incidents that are 
to develop the theme and then of ordering 
them with a veiw to developing this theme. 

How to End a Story 

The ending of a story requires a little spe- 
cial attention. 

First, there should be an ending. Some 
people do not know this. It is a great temp- 
tation to some story-tellers to wander on and 
on without ever being able apparently to 
come to an end. But this should not be 
done, even if, like the little girl Professor 
St. John tells about, one has to resort to — 
"And one beautiful morning, as they were 
walking down the path to the front gate, 
they all died." 

Secondly, the ending should be natural. 
[59] 



The Spoken Word 



In other words, the conclusion must be an 
outgrowth of the events of the story. It 
must, moreover, give satisfaction to the mind 
as an ending. 

Thirdly, the ending must be hidden as 
much as possible from the hearer. It is al- 
most impossible, of course, altogether to 
hide the ending. But it should be, at best, 
only guessed at by him. This may be done 
by carefully watching our words in the tell- 
ing of the story, that we do not forecast 
too much how the tale is to terminate. 

Parts of a Story Illustrated 
In order to make perfectly clear the always 
difficult thing of the story's growth, I give 
in full "The Proud Peacock", from the 
Spanish and quoted in Shedlock's "The Art 
of the Story-teller", with my finger-post re- 
marks afterward : 

THE PROUD PEACOCK 

There was once a cock who grew so dreadfully- 
proud that he would have nothing to say to any- 
body. He left his house, it being far beneath his 
dignity to have any trammel of that sort in his 

[60] 



The Story 



life, and as for his former acquaintance, he cut 
them all. 

One day, while walking about, he came to a 
few little sparks of fire which were nearly dead. 

They cried out to him, "Please fan us with 
your wings, and we shall come to the full vigor 
of life again." 

But he did not dain to answer, and as he was 
going awsy one of the sparks said, "Ah well, we 
shall die, but our big brother, the Fire, will pay 
you out for this one day." 

On another day he was airing himself in a 
meadow, showing himself off in a very superb 
suit of clothes. A voice calling from somewhere 
said, "Please be so good as to drop us into the 
water again." 

He looked about and saw a few drops of water. 
They had got separated from their friends in the 
river, and were pining away with grief. "Oh!" 
they said, "please be so good as to drop us again 
into the water." But without any answer, he 
drank up the drops. He was too proud and a 
great deal too big to talk to a poor little puddle 
of water. But the drops said, "Our big brother, 
the Water, will one day take you in hand, you 
proud and senseless creature." 

Some days afterwards, during a great storm of 
rain, thunder, and lightning, the cock took shelter 
in a little empty cottage, and shut to the door. 
And he thought, "I am clever; I am in comfort. 
What fools people are to stop out in a storm like 



[61] 



The Spoken Word 



this! What's that?" thought he. "I never heard a 
sound like that before." 

In a little while it grew louder, and when a few 
minutes had passed, it was a perfect howl. "Oh!'' 
thought he, "this will never do. I must stop it 
somehow. But what is it I have to stop?" 

He soon found it was the wind, shouting 
through the keyhole. So he plugged up the key- 
hole with a bit of clay, and then the wind was 
able to rest. He was very tired with whistling 
so long through the keyhole, and he said, "Now, 
if ever I get a chance of doing a good turn to 
that princely domestic fowl, I will do it." 

Weeks afterwards, the cock looked in at a 
house door. He seldom went there, because the 
miser to whom the house belonged almost starved 
himself, and so, of course, there was nothing over 
for anybody else. 

To his amusement the cock saw the miser 
bending over a pot on the fire. At last the old 
fellow turned round to get a spoon with which to 
stir his pot, and then the cock, waking up, looked 
in and saw that the miser was making oyster- 
soup, for he had found some oyster-shells in an 
ash-pit, and to give the mixture a color he had 
put in a few halfpence into the pot. 

The miser chanced to turn quickly round, while 
the cock was peering into! the saucepan, and, 
chuckling to himself, he said, "I shall have some 
chicken broth after all." 

He tripped up the cock into the pot and shut 
the lid on. The bird, feeling warm, said, "Water, 

[62] 



The Story 



water, don't boil!" But the water only said, "You 
drank up my young brothers once; don't ask a 
favor of me." 

Then he called out to the fire, "Oh! Kind fire, 
don't boil the water." But the fire replied, "You 
once let my young sisters die; you cannot expect 
any mercy from me." So he flared up and boiled 
the water all the faster. 

At last, when the cock got unpleasantly warm, 
he thought of the wind, and called out, "Oh, 
Wind, come to my help!" And the wind said, 
"Why, there is that noble domestic bird in trouble. 
I will help him." 

So he came down the chimney, blew out the 
fire, blew the lid off the pot, and blew the cock 
far away into the air, and at last settled him on 
the steeple, where' the cock has remained ever 
since. And people say that the halfpence which 
were in the pot when it was boiling have given 
him a queer brown color he still wears. 

The beginning of this story is the first 
paragraph, the ending is the last paragraph, 
and the development is all between these two. 
The theme, which is, That one gets what he 
gives, is developed by four incidents — the 
fire, the drops, the wind, and the miser and 
his pot. The first three of these tie things 
up, as they say, while the other unties the 
knot and shows us how the story will end. 
[63] 



The Spoken Word 



The beginning introduces the main char- 
acter and suggests the theme. Indeed, the 
theme is hinted at in the title. The conclu- 
sion is short and tells what became of the 
cock. Observe that the order in which the 
fire, the drops, and the wind come in the 
first part is the same as that in which they 
are given in the second part. Note, too, that 
what took place between the cock and the 
other characters is given in the form of con- 
versation. This both enlivens the narrative 
and makes the characters more real. It may 
also be noted that the theme is not the high- 
est, for it expresses what is called in the New 
Testament "an eye for an eye, and a tooth 
for a tooth" ; whereas returning good for evil 
is a nobler sentiment. But it is not fair, per- 
haps, to criticize a story for what it is not. 

Fables and Fairy-tales 

A question is often asked as to whether 
fairy-tales, fables, and folk-stories should be 
told to children, and if so what is the best 
way to handle them? 

Whenever objection is made to fairy-tales 
[64] 



The Story 



it is on moral grounds — that, since they are 
the product of the imagination and are ob- 
viously not true, they should not be told at 
all to children. But this objection is based 
on a fallacy as to what is true and what is 
not true, and also on a misconception as to 
the nature of childhood. 

There is a difference between a fact and a 
truth. Fact is what happens. Subjected to 
the test of fact, the fairy-tale would go 
down ; but it may be true for all that. Meas- 
ured by this test, would not the "Prodigal 
Son", the "Good Samaritan", and the para- 
ble of the Vineyard in the Book of Mor- 
mon fall short, too? For is there any one 
who knows for certain that these are actual 
happenings in the form in which they ap- 
pear in these books ? I submit that the truth 
expressed in these narratives is wholly inde- 
pendent of their historical value. And so it 
is of every fairy-story that is proper to tell 
at all. Besides, as I have already hinted, 
the child does not at first observe any distinc- 
tions between what is a fact and what is 
not. Later on, to be sure, it wants to know 
[65] 



The Spoken Word 



if such and such a story is "true", even when 
it loves to hear stories that obviously did not 
happen; but this query, even where it is 
asked of stories about Jesus, need give no 
alarm, for the child merely wishes to know 
that it may properly place the narrative in 
its mind. 

Whether fairy-tales are good for chil- 
dren or not depends upon the particular 
fairy-tale. Five-dollar pieces are five-dollar 
pieces — but some of them are bogus. So 
with fairy-tales — some are good, and some 
are bad. Felix Adler places "the whole 
brood" of step-mother stories in the class 
that is objectionable, for the reason that it is 
not desirable to teach children "to look on 
step-mothers in general as evilly disposed." 
Similarly he would rule out such stories as 
the "Wolf and the Seven Little Goats" on 
the ground that fear is demoralizing. "It is 
time enough", he thinks, for children to 
familiarize themselves later on "with the fact 
that evil of a sinister sort exists within hu- 
man society and outside of it. And it will be 
safe for them to face this fact then onlv, 
[66] 



The Story 



when they can couple with it the conviction 
that the forces of right and order in the 
world are strong enough to grapple with the 
sinister powers and hold them in subjec- 
tion." 

Fairy-tales, then, are to be told to chil- 
dren only when the effect on them will be 
wholesome, and this test is to be applied to 
each tale separately. 

Concerning fables also Mr. Adler warns, 
us, and at the same time offers a classification 
that throws a light on the method of hand- 
ling them. 

The main thing to keep in mind respect- 
ing fables, he thinks, is that they are of 
Asiatic origin. "They depict a state of so- 
ciety in which the people are cruelly op- 
pressed by tyrannical rulers, and the weak 
are helpless in the hands of the strong. The 
spirit which they breathe is, on the whole, 
one of patient and rather hopeless submis- 
sion. The effect * * is very saddening." 
Some fables have for their theme the char- 
acter of the strong as exhibited in their deal- 
ings with the weak ; as, for example, the 
[67] 



The Spoken Word 



Kite and the Pigeons, the Wolf in Sheep's 
Clothing-, the Sick Lion and the Fox, and 
King Log and King Stork. A second group 
have for their theme that the weak ought to 
pacify the strong or to flee or to submit un- 
complainingly ; as witness the Oak and the 
Reed, the Old Woman and the Maids, and 
the Wanton Calf. A third group has for its 
general subject the consolations of the weak; 
for instance, the Lion and the Mouse, which 
teaches that even tyrannical masters are to a 
certain extent dependent on their inferiors ; 
the four bulls, which aims to show that dis- 
sensions creep in among the mighty; and 
the Horse and the Ass, which exhibits the 
fickleness of fortune. 

Mr. Adler then instances the following as 
among the fables that are useful to-day : The 
Kite and the Wolf, as showing injustice; 
the Ant and the Grasshopper, improvidence; 
the Snake warmed in the Breast, ingrati- 
tude; the Stag and the Fawn, cowardice; 
the Crow who lost his Cheese, vanity; the 
Hare and the Tortoise, contemptuous self- 
confidence; the Husbandman and the Stork. 
[68] 



The Story 



the evil influence of bad company; the 
Fowler and the Ring, cruelty to animals ; the 
Dog and the Shadow, greediness; the Boy 
who cried "Wolf!" lying; the Ass in the 
Lion's Skin, bragging; the Fox without a 
Tail, deceit; the Sour Grapes, disingenuous- 
ness ; the Peacock's Complaint, a discontent- 
ed spirit; the Dog in the Manger, malice; 
the Traveler and the Bear, breaking faith. 

Much of what has been said of the fable 
and the fairy-tale holds equally true of the 
legend, or folk-story, handed down from 
generation to generation in the olden time 
by word of mouth. They have, speaking 
generally, a mythological background, situ- 
ations which center in the phenomena of the 
storm, in the battles between the sun and the 
clouds, and in the struggle of the spring god 
with the dark winter demon. They come to 
us from a time "when the world was 
young", and therefore they appeal to men 
and women who are youthful. They are per- 
vaded by "the poetry of the forest life, are 
full of the sense of mystery and awe, which 
is apt to overcome one on penetrating 
[69] 



The Spoken Word 



deeper and deeper into the woods, away from 
human habitations" ; they present "glowing 
pictures of sheltered firesides, where man 
finds rest and security from howling winds 
and nipping cold" ; they make us feel a com- 
radeship with trees and flowers and animals 
and even the stars. 



[70] 



CHAPTER FOUR 

THE STORY-TELLER 

The story-teller, having chosen his 
story with a view to the nature of the tale 
itself and the persons to whom he is to 
tell it, must be aware of and practice cer- 
tain things in the telling of it. 

Know Your Story Well 

First of all he must "saturate himself 

with the idea" of the story. 

What Henry James said of the writer 
of tales is even more true of the teller of 
tales with the tongue : "The fault in the 
artist which amounts most competely to 
failure of dignity is the absence of satura- 
tion with this idea. When saturation fails, 
no other real presence avails, as when, on 
the other hand, it operates, no failure of 
method fatally interferes." 
[71] 



The Spoken Word 



By "saturation of idea" James meant 
that the idea of the story must take pos- 
session of the mind, that the story-teller 
must be carried away with the thing he is 
telling. Miss Shedlock gives an interest- 
ing illustration from her own experience 
of the effect produced by an inexperienced 
girl on a group of very small children. 
"When she began, I felt somewhat hope- 
less, because of the complete failure of 
method. She seemed to have all the faults 
most damaging to the success of a 
speaker. Her voice was harsh, her ges- 
tures awkward, her manner was restless 
and melodramatic; but as she went on I 
soon began to discount all these faults 
and, in truth, to soon forget about them, 
for so absorbed was she in her story, so 
saturated with her subject, that she 
quickly communicated her own interest 
to her audience, and the children were ab- 
solutely spellbound." 

Another qualification of the story-teller 
is necessary. This is a disposition to take 
pains enough before the telling of the 
[72] 



The Story-teller 



story to insure effectiveness. To do this 
two things are necessary. 

The first is a strong, well-defined de- 
sire to tell a story well. Such a desire 
perhaps will be present in a contest in 
story-telling, although I have known of 
persons entering a contest of this kind 
with no particular wish to tell the story 
well. And this absence of desire is rather 
common — the desire, I mean, which is 
willing to take pains in preparing for it. 
But if one is to tell a story, certainly if one 
is to represent an organization in a con- 
test, the least one can do is to be eager 
to take one's part with credit. 

But a mere wish to do so, however 
ardent, is not enough. Faith without 
works, the good Book tells us, is dead. 
Just as I have known of persons entering 
a contest without seeming to want to do 
well, so I have known of others who, 
possessing a keen sense for the outcome 
of the contest, have nevertheless gone to 
it with the most slip-shod, higgledy- 
piggledy preparation. And, again, this 
[73] 



The Spoken Word 



superficial preparation for story-telling on 
the part of teachers is exceedingly com- 
mon among us. But if the story is im- 
portant at all in class work, then it is im- 
portant enough to be told as well as one 
can tell it. 

There must therefore be a great deal 
of practice in story-telling. Professor St. 
John, after discussing the things that one 
ought to know before attempting to use 
the art, advises the beginner to "tell the 
story again and again" by way of prepara- 
tion. And he goes on to say: "It is not 
possible to carry this too far. The aim is 
largely to provide for perfect familiarity 
with the content and form, but there are 
other advantages of great importance. 
Asi one gains familiarity with the story 
there is less of self-consciousness. One 
learns to give oneself wholly to the story 
and the audience. Again, there is a reac- 
tion to the hearers, and the form improves 
as a result. There is also a gain growing 
out of the response of the story-teller to 
the story itself. More and more, as a 
[74] 



The Story-teller 



result of this repetition, it becomes a per- 
sonal possession and is told not from 
memory but really from the heart. This 
is the principle that lies back of the old 
saying that a man may tell a lie until he 
believes in himself! Let us make use of 
this psychological fact, for it will aid us 
to gain success. It is after the story has 
been told twenty times, and it may be to 
the same audience if they are children, 
that there will be most frequent requests 
that it be told again." 

Things Not to Do 

It is perhaps objectionable on general 
principles to formulate negative rules, al- 
though I have an excellent precedent in 
the Ten Commandments, since a don't is 
likely to suggest an idea to the mind, as 
when the good-wife on going away 
warned her children against putting beans 
up their noses and found them on her re- 
turn testing the effect of this new sug- 
gestion, most of the little nostrils being 
full of these inconvenient vegetables. But 
[75] 



The Spoken Word 



the objection is over-ruled in the event 
that the practices (forbidden, as 'in this 
case of mine, are common. So I venture 
upon the following prohibitoins. 

Don't read your story. May be you 
have noticed that when the audience is 
listening to a story every eye seeks the 
speaker. But there is little to satisfy this 
search when the story-teller has his face 
hidden in a book. Much of the effect of 
the words is therefore lost if the story be 
read. An audience, large or small, wants 
to see the story dramatized more or less ; 
it craves the look of the eye as the words 
pour forth, the posture of the whole body, 
the gesture of the hands — all, of course 
as the fit expression of the story itself. 
But these effects are lost otherwise. 

Don't memorize the story, unless you 
are in a declamation contest and not a 
story-telling contest. The same rule ap- 
plies with even more force if you are 
teaching a class. It may be that by mem- 
orizing a story certain faults of expression 
will be avoided, but certain other, and 
[76] 



The Story-teller 



greater, faults will likely be incurred ; for 
smooth and graceful and correct language 
is not a sufficient compensation for de- 
ception and a mechanical delivery. If you 
pretend to retell a story in your own 
language, observe the rules of the contest, 
and retell it in your own words as they 
come to you on the spur of the moment. 

Don't, if you are telling a story to chil- 
dren, get them to help you in telling it. 
"I was once telling the exciting tale of the 
Shepherd's Child lost in the mountains," 
says Kate Douglas Wiggin, "and of the 
sagacious dog who finally found him. 
When I reached the thrilling episode of 
the search, I followed the dog as he 
started from the shepherd's hut with the 
bit of breakfast for his little master. The 
shepherd sees the faithful creature, and 
seized by a sudden inspiration follows in 
his path. Up, up the mountain sides they 
clmb, the father full of hope, the mother 
trembling with fear. The dog rushes 
ahead, quite out of sight; the anxious vil- 
lagers press forward in hot pursuit. The 
[77] 



The Spoken Word 



situation grows more and more intense; 
they round a little point of rocks, and 
there, under the shadow of a great gray- 
crag, they find — 'What do you suppose 
they found?' 'Fi' cents!' shouted Benny 
in a transport of excitement. 'Bet yer 
they found fi' cents !' You would imagine 
that such a preposterous idea could not 
find favor in any sane community; but so 
altogether seductive a guess did this ap- 
pear to be, that a chorus of 'Fi' cents ! 'Fi' 
cents!' sounded on every side; and when 
the tumult was hushed, the discovery of 
an ordinary flesh and blood child fell like 
an anti-climax on a public thoroughly in 
love with its incongruities." 

Don't, if you are telling a story to chil- 
dren, talk down to them. Children are 
very quick to detect any signs of artifi- 
ciality — and to resent it. Use such lan- 
guage as they will understand — words not 
beyond their comprehension, and sen- 
tences that will not puzzle their minds or 
tax them to follow you. Affectation, as 
of one who is conscious that he is speak- 
[78] 



The Story-teller 



ing to children, is abominably common 
among us. 

Don't explain and comment overmuch. 
In fact, do so as little of it as you can. Be- 
cause we are unable to look into other 
people's minds, we are apt to take too 
little for granted as to their power to 
read between the lines. The truth is that 
the mind of the hearer is very busy as he 
listens, guessing, looking behind, trying 
to peep ahead, filling in details. Let as 
much of this work as possible be done. 
Don't stop to tell the meaning of this or 
that look or act or word. Your hearers 
will get that anyway. Don't describe any 
more than you have to. Tell of the ac- 
tion — what the characters say and do and 
how they look. 

Don't wander into irrelevent details. 
If you know your story well, you are 
aware of the end from the beginning. 
Keep that end in mind all the time and 
tell only such details as make straight for 
it, with such leeway as I have already 
said is allowable. The temptation to 
[79] 



The Spoken Word 



introduce needless details manifests itself 
oftenest perhaps in description and expla- 
nation — both of which are in themselves 
dry. Keep to the main line therefore, 
just about as you would if you were going 
from one town to another. But the temp- 
tation appears also in a tendency in some 
persons to be needlessly accurate in de- 
tals that do not matter at all to the story, 
as in the case of forgetting whether a 
character was So-and-so's brother, when 
you could as well omit it altogether — brother 
and all. 

Things to Do 

The story-teller should be careful to use 
choice language. Slang, of course, ought 
to be studiously avoided, not only be- 
cause it shuts out better words, but be- 
cause it lowers the tone of a dignified 
narrative. I have already suggested the 
necessity oi[ using easy words. Senten- 
ces, as a rule, should be short. Nor 
should these be strung out by a succes- 
sion of "ands," like beads on a cord. 
[80] 



The Story-teller 



The story-teller should be careful to 
subordinate such details as should be kept 
down. Not everything is of the same 
importance with everything else. De- 
termine just what is important and what 
is not, and make the subordination ac- 
cordingly. Any two ideas connected by 
"and" are of the same rank. "I was walk- 
ing down the road, and I met Alice," 
makes equally promiment two ideas, one 
that I walked down the road and the other 
that I met Alice. If meeting Alice is the 
main idea, then the sentence should read, 
"As I was walking down the street, I met 
Alice." 

The story-teller should, where he can, 
adopt conversation. Instead of saying, 
"a shilling came forth from the mint 
springing and shouting that it was going 
out into the world," Anderson says, 
"shouting, 'Hurrah! Now I am going 
out into the wide world.' " The second 
way is more lively, striking, and dramatic 
than the first. Of course, not everything 
lends itself to this form, but where it can 
[81] 



The Spoken Word 



be used it makes the story more interest- 
ing. Conversation also adds variety to 
statements, and thus increases interest. 

The story-teller should make judicious 
use of pauses. Miss Shedlock values 
this device very highly, placing it "first 
and foremost" among the devices for 
holding attention. "I have tried this sim- 
ple art of pausing with every kind of au- 
dience," she says, "and I have rarely 
known it to fail. * * * In Hans 
Christian Anderson's 'Princess and the 
Pea' the king goes down to open the door 
himself. Now, one may make this point 
in two ways. One may either say : 'And 
then the king went to open the door, and 
at the door there stood a real Princess,' 
or, 'And then the king to the door, and at 
the door there stood — a real Princess.' 
It is difficult to exaggerate the difference 
of effect produced by so slight a pause. 
With children it means an unconscious 
curiosity which expresses itself in a sud- 
den muscular tension. There is just time 
during that instant's pause to feel, al- 
[82] 



The Story-teller 



though not to formulate, the question: 
'What is standing at the door?' By this 
means, half your work of holding the at- 
tention is accomplished." 



83] 



PART TWO 
PUBLIC SPEAKING 



CHAPTER ONE 

THE VALUE OF PUBLIC 
SPEAKING 

Before we can bring ourselves to that point of 
exertion where we make genuine progress in 
the art of public speaking, it is usually ne- 
cessary these days first to convince ourselves 
that we are going to have use for it, that 
our efficiency in whatever vocation we may 
have chosen will be increased by its cultiva- 
tion. Of what value, then, will public speak- 
ing be to the average Latter-day Saint young 
man or woman? 

It Trains the Mind 

First of all, it is an excellent means of train- 
ing the mind to think quickly and clearly. 

There are no callings in life nowadays 
where quickness and clearness in thinking 
are not essentials to success therein. In 
some vocations, of course, they are more 
necessary than in others, but in all vocations 
the lack of these qualities of mind is a more 
[87] 



The Spoken Word 



or less serious handicap. Most persons do 
not think at all. To be sure, there are goings- 
on up there in the region of the brain, but 
the process no more resembles thinking than 
the movements of a caged bird resembles 
progress in the air. The mine-owner in 
Pennsylvania, for instance, who found that 
for every five hundred thousand tons of coal 
he took out he lost eleven workers by acci- 
dent, did not think or he would have looked 
for the cause and removed it. Afterwards, 
when the workmen were unable to get 
whisky and beer and only one of their num- 
ber, during this period of sobriety, lost his 
life in the mining of this same amount of 
coal, the owner came to the conclusion that 
the cause of it was drink. But he did not 
think himself into the conclusion: he stum- 
bled upon it. Then, again, many persons 
who endeavor to think do so very muddily. 
Their brains are mixed up with sediment, 
which prevents the mind from acting freely. 
And so it needs clarifying. 

Now, there is nothing that contributes to 
clear-headedness like public speaking. When 
[88] 



Value of Public Speaking 



you get up on your legs before a body of 
your equals in the attempt to say something, 
the mental processes are forced to act and 
to act quickly. There is no getting out of it. 
Talking oneself into clearness, is a common 
phrase and an old one. The mere act of put- 
ting our thought into words helps the mat- 
ter of clearness, but the compulsion brought 
on in the act of speaking before an audience 
greatly accelerates the clarifying process. 
Other things remaining the same, the men 
who do most public speaking are the clear- 
est thinkers and the quickest. 

Public Speaking Is of Use 
Secondly, to be able to express oneself well 
in public is of practical use to every one who 
aspires to anything more than mediocrity. 

It is of use to the farmer and the business 
man. There are important meetings held, 
where the best methods of conducting indus- 
tries and business enterprises are discussed. 
But they are necessarily discussed only by 
those who can talk on their feet. No one 
else is ever selected either to act as the pre- 
[39] 



The Spoken Word 



siding officer of such a gathering or to take 
part on the program. Whoever can not ex- 
press himself on such occasions must be con- 
tent to be a mere listener, and listening is 
rarely so interesting and beneficial as taking 
part in a discussion. Besides, many valu- 
able ideas are lost to the public through the 
inability of men to think and speak standing. 
Public speaking is of use to the man or 
woman who aspires to take part in public 
affairs. Indeed, to such a one it is indispens- 
able. The lawyer cannot get along without 
it, and the greater ability he has in this line 
the more successful he will be. The physi- 
cian who aims to be more than a mere prac- 
titioner, who wishes to be of general service 
in his community, particularly in a "Mor- 
mon" community, will have abundant use 
for this art. Every government requires of- 
ficers to carry it on — presidents, governors, 
legislators, judges, and manipulators of po- 
litical parties — all of whom rise into power 
largely through the use of public speech. 
And how could one ever hope to be a suc- 
cessful teacher without the ability to think 
[90] 



Value of Public Speaking 



clearly, to arrange his thoughts systematic- 
ally, and to put these ideas effectively, be- 
fore an audience ? In a democracy like ours, 
where there are great reforms to champion 
and public offices to hoid, public address is 
one of the surest and quickest ways to recog- 
nition and influence. 

But especially is this art of practical serv- 
ice to the young Latter-day Saint who ex- 
pects to become active in his Church. And 
every one ought so to expect. I have already 
said something of this in the Introduction. 
Let me add here that this is one of the best 
means of serving our people not only abroad 
as missionaries but also at home as workers. 
Nor should one who wishes to perform this 
service be content with doing it in a mechan- 
ical and superficial manner. If the work be 
worth doing at all, it is worth doing well — 
worth doing in such a way as will bring 
honor both to him who does it and to his 
people. Than religious truth there is noth- 
ing higher, and so the medium through 
which this truth is conveyed should be the 
choicest. 

[91] 



CHAPTER TWO 

TRIMMING DOWN A SUBJECT 

Before we can make a speech, we must have 
something to say. I shall, therefore, in this 
chapter, explain the interesting process by 
which a general subject becomes a theme. 

Have Something to Say 

And first as to the theme of an address. 

The most important thing to keep in mind 
in speech-making is this : Say just one 
thing. Said one woman to another not long 
ago, after a young ladies' meeting, "How do 
you manage to make your point always, 
whereas I never seem able to make mine?" 
The other answered, "I don't know, unless 
it is that you try to make too many points 
in the same talk, while I try to make only 
one." And that, if not the reason, was cer- 
tainly a reason, and a very good one, too. 
A shotgun is not likely to bring down big 
game, but melt the little leaden beads into 
one bullet, and you may then shoot to some 
[92] 



Trimming Down a Subject 

purpose. So it is in public speaking. Say a 
dozen things, and your hearers are likely to 
go away wondering what they have got 
from your discourse; say one thing only, 
and they will leave with a definite impression 
of what you have said. 

Say But One Thing 

But how are you to get this one thing? 

Unity of impression does not consist 
nearly so much in the fact that you do not 
include different items in your speech as it 
does in the fact that you tie these topics into 
one whole by means of general statements. 
This may sound like a contradiction of what 
I have just said. But it is not. Concrete, 
brick, lumber, and what not, do not give you 
a single impression while they are lying in 
the yards of various dealers, but assemble 
these materials according to a given plan and 
fasten them together with nails, mortar, and 
other connecting substances, and they do 
give you an impression of being one thing — - 
a house. Baptism, the sacrament, healing 
the sick, confirmation — these do not appear 
[93] 



The Spoken Word 



to belong in the same sermon, and ordinarily 
if they were so included they would make a 
very scattered impression, if they made any 
impression at all. But suppose you tied them 
together by some such statement as this : 
"The Church of Christ has some very defi- 
nite ordinances, which it is necessary to em- 
brace in order to be saved." By this simple 
device you have brought these otherwise dis- 
connected items into order and unity, just as 
the word of a commander might turn a body 
of scattered men into a marching regiment. 
These general statements act as a kind of a 
glue in our speech, a sort of finger-post, 
pointing the way. Look for their presence 
or their absence in the next address you 
hear. 

Another way of securing a single impres- 
sion in a speech, and perhaps a more com- 
mon one, is to include in the speech but one 
thought elaborated and opened up before 
the audience. Instead of taking all of the 
subjects mentioned in the preceding para- 
graph, suppose you take but one. The 
chances are that your sermon would give 
'[94] 



Trimming Down a Subject 

something like a total impression, if for no 
other reason than that all you said was on 
the same general subject. A good question, 
then, to ask ourselves when we are looking 
for a subject, and to ask whenever we hear 
others speak in public, is this : Is this ad- 
dress about one thing or more than one 
thing? 

Two ways, then, of obtaining unit) - or a 
total effect in a speech are, first, to see that 
we have only one thing or subject to talk 
about, and, secondly, if we have more than 
one thing or subject in our speech, to be sure 
that we use plenty of the nails and glue of 
words — general statements. 

Be Original 

But I would go even further than this. 

The trouble with many speeches given by 
the inexperienced is that the subject is either 
too broad or two abstract or both. Baptism, 
for instance, is very broad, and it would be 
difficult for us to say anything to the point 
on the subject unless we had more time than 
is usually alloted to a discourse. Perhaps, 
[95] 



The Spoken Word 



on second thought, we should find a single 
phase of it sufficient — that baptism is essen- 
tial to salvation, for example, or that the 
proper mode of baptism is immersion. Again, 
"Community Welfare" is ordinarily too 
broad to allow of adequate treatment. "The 
Value to the Community of Good Roads" 
would be better, or, better still, "The Road 
between Dash and Blank should be Macad- 
amized". Then, too, a subject should not be 
too general. How could an ordinary per- 
son hope to say anything adequate or to the 
point on such a topic as "Honor", or 
"Truth", or "Duty", or "Labor"? Besides, 
these are altogether hackneyed. Avoid 
them. 

To be sure, on occasions it becomes neces- 
sary to speak on broad subjects. Before an 
audience composed of persons who are un- 
acquainted with the subject, "Mormonism" 
may be perfectly proper as the material for 
an address or lecture, the understanding be- 
ing that only the general features will be 
given. And so with other subjects to be 
treated on special occasions or under peculiar 
[96] 



Trimming Down a Subject 

conditions. But certainly, for contests in 
the Improvement Associations as well as for 
the average religious discourse, the narrow, 
specific subject is always preferable to the 
broad, general subject. 

A very practical way of getting a definite, 
specific theme for a speech is to set down in 
writing as many complete sentences about 
any given subject as we can. This will also 
give us a variety of themes to choose from. 
But I would add another bit of advice: Try- 
to think of some original themes, themes 
you have never heard treated. No doubt this 
will be hard at first. The ordinances in re- 
ligion have been discussed until they are 
thoroughly threadbare. But not long ago I 
saw treated in an essay an original aspect of 
this general subject. It was on the religious 
ordinance as a sign and the necessity of signs 
in human society. The way to be original 
is to think about our subject, to look at it 
from as many different angles as we can, 
and to take what appears to be the newest — 
in a word, to use our own brains instead of 
someone else's. 

[97] 



CHAPTER THREE 

HOW A THEME GROWS 

Having chosen a theme, your next step is to 
develop it. Developing a theme requires, 
first, that you "think yourself empty", sec- 
ondly, that you "read yourself full", and, 
thirdly, that you "talk yourself clear". 

Thinking Yourself Empty 
And first as to thinking. 

"I insist upon original effort", says Bur- 
ton, in his Yale Lectures, "that, rather than 
reading, to begin with. In every mental act 
there are two factors involved: the think- 
ing mind, and the external material which 
it manipulates ; and men may be classified as 
original and productive thinkers, or as copy- 
ists, plagiarists, and forms of echo, accord- 
ing as they dominate this their material or 
are dominated by it. But the most ignomin- 
ious person in all the world, if so be that 
[98] 



How a Theme Grows 



he have one remaining spark, or last flicker, 
of manliness in him, desires to be a man of 
supreme generative force and not an echo 
ever; and this he can secure only as, in the 
handling of subjects, he thinks with all his 
might before he reads." 

A good way to generate thought is to ask 
as many questions as you can about your 
subject — to surround it with interrogation 
points. It makes little difference that you 
are unable to answer the questions. The 
mere process of asking them indicates that 
your mind is at work, and that is the main 
thing. Suppose, for instance, that you are 
trying to develop a theme concerning reve- 
lation. You might ask yourself such ques- 
tions as these : What is revelation ? Is there 
any difference between revelation and inspi- 
ration? Do I know any instances of each? 
What part does the mind of man play in each 
process? Has there always been inspira- 
tion? revelation? How may revelation be 
given? Why is revelation needed in the 
Church? Why did revelation cease in the 
Christian Church? What? how? why? — 
[99] 



The Spoken Word 



these are the starters of thought. Surround- 
ing your theme with questions, besides mak- 
ing your mind alert, also reveals to you 
whether you have much or little material and 
exactly what material you need to obtain. 

As to the process of thought itself, Pro- 
fessor Genung says that the habit of medita- 
tion is the result of three other habits. 

The first of these is "the habit of seeking 
clearness". Nearly always when a subject is 
first presented to the untrained mind it is 
"apt to be cloudy. Sometimes the gist of the 
whole matter may flash upon the mind at 
once. But this is not often, except to the 
practiced thinker". Others, for the most 
part, must work out an idea, slowly and 
gradually, from haziness to clearness. And 
this must be done anew with every subject 
till the habit is fixed upon the mind and be- 
comes a second nature. The effect of con- 
stantly seeking clearness will be, first, to 
keep the mind from "lazy or sloppy or hur- 
ried thinking" and, secondly, to keep it from 
attacking subjects that are beyond its reach. 
Abraham Lincoln has told us that even 
[100] 



How a Theme Grows 



when a boy he could never rest or sleep if 
he heard anything discussed which was dif- 
ficult for him to understand, till he had 
thought it all out clearly by himself. This 
habit it was, no doubt, that made him one 
of the clearest-headed men of his generation. 
The second is the habit of seeking order. 
This aspect will come up again, but some- 
thing must be said of it here. In seeking to 
be orderly one strives to answer the ques- 
tion, What comes first, what second, what 
third? Clearness requires that you see; or- 
der requires that you arrange what you see. 
Order demands that you look for the rela- 
tion of one idea to another, "noting what is 
principal and what subordinate, seeing parts 
in a kind of perspective, wherein effect 
stretches out from cause and concrete details 
from central principles." This habit, too, 
comes from effort, long-continued and con- 
stantly applied. As a result, planning of ma- 
terial becomes less and less a drudgery, and 
the thinker becomes less and less content 
with superficial and hasty results. "It is the 
trained intellect, intolerant of distorted or 
[101] 



The Spoken Word 



permanent and satisfying work." 

The third is the "habit of seeking inde- 
pendent conclusions. This habit it is which 
is the foundation of originality", of which 
I have already spoken in part. "It may not 
lead to better views of truth than are al- 
ready extant; it may not lead to new con- 
clusions, in the absolute sense" ; its virtue is 
that you do j^our own thinking and reach 
your own conclusions. The results of this 
habit are that one develops confidence in 
one's own well-considered opinions and that 
"one's work carries the note of conviction 
and authority". For the most part, this is 
"an age of second-hand thinking. We all 
ask for our milk malted, for our meats pep- 
tonized, for our books digested. Short cuts 
are the mania of the age." 

Make up your mind, then, to do your own 
thinking — to seek clearness, to seek order, 
to be original, and thus form the habit of 
meditation. Your own thinking, mind you. 
For the temptation will be ever present to 
appropriate both the thought and the words 
[102] 



How a Theme Grows 



of others and palm them off as your own. 
This is plain stealing. You must never be- 
gin the practice of plagiarism, as literary 
theft is called. To take the work of a man's 
brain is just as bad, to say the least, as to 
take the work of a man's hand. If the indi- 
vidual should be punished who puts his fin- 
gers into your pocket unawares and steals 
your month's hard earnings, should not he 
be punished also who steals the product of 
your brain? 

Not, to be sure, that we are not to make 
use at all of others' mental labor. It would 
be too much to expect a person to weave his 
web, like the spider, from his own bowels. 
Borrowing is perfectly legitimate, but not 
stealing. All that we are required to do is 
to give proper credit for what we borrow. 
On this basis it is not wrong, though it 
would be inconceivably silly, to borrow an 
entire speech. Now, credit for literary bor- 
rowings is given, in writing, by the usual 
quotation marks ; and, in oral speech, by an 
acknowledgment of the words as a quota- 
tion. To avoid even unconscious plagiarism 
[103] 



The Spoken Word 



it is best, in taking notes, to set everything 
down in one's own words rather than in the 
words of the book. 

Reading Yourself Full 

Having thought yourself empty, the next 

step is to "read yourself full". 

Reading should proceed usually from the 
general to the specific. That is to say, if you 
wish to read up on a particular subject — 
say, irrigation — it would be well to read 
first an article on the subject in an encyclo- 
pedia. This will give you a bird's eye view, 
so to speak, of the whole field of irrigation. 
After that you might take up whatever 
aspects of the subject you wish to — the his- 
tory of irrigation, the beginnings of irriga- 
tion in the United States, the latest methods 
oi applying water to the soil, and so on. 

The extent of one's reading on any given 
subject depends upon the nature of the 
theme, the time it is to occupy, and the occa- 
sion that calls for the address. It is best al- 
ways to be widely read on various aspects of 
the general subject in order to be full of it. 
[104] 



How a Theme Grows 



For if our material "be not thoroughly as- 
similated, instead of furnishing intellectual 
and oratorical pabulum, it will clog the free 
operation of the mind and induce mental dys- 
pepsia. Howsoever complete the reading, it 
should be, above all things, suggestive and 
stimulating, setting the speaker's own mind 
and imagination in motion and arousing the 
oratorical spirit to action." 

Talking Yourself Clear 

Lastly you should "talk yourself clear". 

There is nothing so clarifying to the mind 
as to tell others the thoughts that are as 
yet but dim in our own mind. Every one 
who has taught a class in any subject knows 
this. The interplay of minds tends to bring 
ideas to the surface where they may be 
looked at and turned over. In much counsel 
there is wisdom, as the old adage has it. 
Now, it does not greatly matter whether the 
conversation be one-sided, two-sided, or 
many-sided. Nor does it matter whether 
the persons with whom we converse for the 
purpose of clearing our own minds, agree 
[105] 



The Spoken Word 



with us for not. Indeed, the chances are 
that disagreement, provided it be honest, will 
bring greater clarity and more ideas than 
where there is only agreement. 

Men of prominence in public speaking 
have often made use of this method of get- 
ting their ideas clear. Sidney Smith, it is 
said, used to go to the blacksmith shop, after 
he had thought out a sermon, and talk it 
over indirectly with the loungers there. 
Charles Sumner tells us that Daniel Webster 
highly commended conversation to him as 
a means of getting knowledge. "Converse, 
converse, converse with living men, face to 
face, and mind to mind, — that is one of the 
best sources of knowledge." Lincoln, too, 
used this method to get his ideas on slavery 
clarified. Inviting his friend Swett to come 
to Washington from his home in Illinois, the 
President talked over the emancipation 
proclamation about to be issued in all its 
phases, and then dismissed his guest without 
asking him to say one word on the subject. 
It was an instance of "stating conclusions 
aloud, not that they might convince another, 
[106] 



How a Theme Grows 



or be combated by him, but that the speaker 
might see for himself how they looked when 
taken out of the region of mere reflection 
and embodied in words." 

Thinking, reading, and conversing — these 
are the means by which we gather whatever 
material we need in order to develop a 
theme; and the greatest of these is think- 
ing. 



[107] 



CHATER FOUR 

THE DIVISIONS OF A SPEECH 

A speech, or address, has three parts, com- 
monly known as the Introduction, the Dis- 
cussion, and the Conclusion. In less formal 
terms they are the Beginning, the Middle, 
and the End. These are natural divisions, 
not something arbitrarily thrust upon us by 
teachers of public speaking. There is a place 
where you are getting started, there is a 
place where you are going on, and there is 
a place where you are rounding off what you 
have said, drawing in the threads of your 
discourse. 

The Beginning 

The Beginning, or Introduction, leads up 
to the theme, the thought or idea which you 
wish to leave with your audience. You have 
something to say on which you have been 
meditating. Very well, but your audience 
[108] 



Divisions of a Speech 



has been thinking of a thousand other and 
different things, probably never having once 
even touched any part of your theme. This 
gulf it is the work of your introduction to 
bridge over so that your thought may get 
across. Sometimes the beginning is long, 
sometimes short, the length depending upon 
the audience, the subject, and the occasion; 
and sometimes there is no introduction at 
all, as when the subject is "in the air." If 
there be a beginning, it should bear a proper 
proportion to the rest of the speech. A five 
minute introduction is too long for a ten 
minute address. 

A good beginning makes a good impres- 
sion and wins the favor of an audience. You 
have to begin somehow. If you begin poorly, 
you make a bad impression ; if well, a good 
impression. Therefore attend to your intro- 
duction. 

Make your introduction as short as you 
can consistently with other qualities. The 
tendency in 'beginners is to say too much 
before they come to their central idea. If 
there have been other speakers, what you 
[109] 



The Spoken Word 



say may very easily be made to grow out 
of what they have said. But in any event, 
your beginning should be brief and to the 
point. 

Make your introduction interesting. Try 
to catch attention at once. Lawrence 
Stearne often began his sermon by quoting 
a familiar saying and then adding, "This I 
deny!" If the occasion will permit, begin 
with an appropriate anecdote. "By charm of 
manner, by felicity of phrase, by earnestness 
of spirit, by aptness and appropriateness of 
thought — by every honeslt means," let the 
speaker "seek at the outset to win the at- 
tention, the respect, the confidence, the sym- 
pathy, the favor of the audience. If he suc- 
ceed in this attempt, the victory is half won. 
Thenceforward he can march straight on- 
ward to his goal." 

The Middle 

Two things we must look to in the Discus- 
sion, or the Middle, of a discourse. They 
are, first, that our thought shall go on, make 
progress, and, secondly, that the audience 
[110] 



Divisions of a Speech 



shall be unmistakably aware that our thought 
is going on. Of course, this takes it for 
granted that we have some central thought 
or idea to go on. 

You cannot progress if you have too many 
subjects. And here we hark back to a point 
already treated. A dictionary has no pro- 
gress for the same reason that some dis- 
courses lack it. One sermon, at least, de- 
livered not long ago in my hearing, included 
the following subjects : The sacrament, the 
favorable circumstances under which the 
Saints in this particular ward met as com- 
pared with earlier days, making the best of 
one's opportunities, the kind of God wor- 
shiped by the "Mormons," humility, the 
sacrament again, the speaker's pride in being 
a Latter-day Saint, teaching by example and 
by precept, spending time in the Lord's ser- 
vice, and finally the sacrament once more. 
There is no forward movement here, only a 
kind of marking of time. Such a sermon 
is thoroughly disjointed and scrappy, mak- 
ing no headway at all. The preacher could 
have stopped anywhere or he might have 
[111] 



The Spoken Word 



gone on till now. A modern audience chafes 
under this sort of public speaking - . It im- 
plies absolutely no thought as to structure, 
like the earth before the creation. Having 
introduced his subject, the speaker should 
make that subject grow under his hands. 
He should know where he is going from 
the time he starts, and forthwith go there. 

Ordinarily this should not be found dif- 
ficult. A theme for a speech may be divided 
into various parts. We say to ourselves, "I 
shall treat of this first and then of that and 
that." When we do this we get our material 
into shape for development according to the 
principles of order. Then, again, we may 
say about one of these subdivisions, "This 
statement needs an illustration or some con- 
crete details to make it clear ; I shall use this 
or that." All of this conduces to progress, 
development. But observe that we have to 
think all of this order and going on before 
the speech is delivered. And that is ithe 
right way. 

Merely to go on, however, is not enough. 
The audience must be made to feel that we 
[112] 



Divisions of a Speech 



are going* on. Now, this is done by what 
are called transitions, either phrases or sen- 
tences. I have just said that a good speech 
proceeds by easy stages or phases. Now, 
when we tell our hearers that we are dealing 
with this phase now or that we are leaving 
this one and going to that, we are using 
words that enable them to keep track of what 
we are doing. 

An illustration will make both of these 
ideas clear at the same time. Burke, in his 
great speech on "Conciliation with Amer- 
ica," is urging that Parliament make peace 
with the Colonists on the ground, partly, that 
"a fierce spirit of liberty" has grown up in 
the New World which cannot be trifled with. 
And he goes on to explain this temper and 
character under six heads. You can see that 
he is making progress, for he takes each of 
these headings by itself and is at a different 
place when he ends than he was at the be- 
ginning. Here is how he makes us aware 
of his progress : "First, the people of the 
colonies are descendants of Englishmen." 
To this phase he gives nearly five hundred 
[113] 



The Spoken Word 



words. He then says, "They were further 
confirmed in this pleasing error by the form 
of their provincial legislative assemblies." 
To this phase he devotes barely fifty words. 
"If there were anything wanting to this 
necessary operation of the form of govern- 
ment," he goes on, "religion would have 
given it a complete effect." Three hundred 
words. His next point is introduced by the 
following sentence : "Permit me, Sir, to add 
another circumstance in our colonies, which 
contributes no mean part towards the growth 
and effect of this intractable spirit." His 
next transition is, "The last cause of this 
disobedient spirit in the colonies is hardly 
less powerful than the rest. * * * 
Three thousand miles of ocean lie between 
you and them." This point needs two hun- 
dred fifty words. The fourth I have omitted 
on account of its length. These transition 
sentences make it easy to follow this part 
of the speech, whereas if they were absent, 
even though the phases were given in exactly 
the same order, the development of the 
thought would be difficult to keep track of. 
[114] 



Divisions of a Speech 



Two suggestions arise from the preceding 
paragraph. One is the rule of Proportion, 
which requires that items in a discourse be 
given space according to their importance. 
The more words you devote to any given 
topic the more importance it has in your 
speech. A common practice among begin- 
ners is to tell all they know about aspects 
concerning which they have considerable in- 
formation, and let the /rest, even though 
more important, go with little or no consider- 
ation. This violates the law of proportion. 
The other suggestion is that there should 
be some variety in the transitions, if smooth- 
ness be very desirable. No two of Burke's 
transitions are alike. 

The Ending 

"The conclusion," says Professor Brink, 
"may be explained as that part of the oration 
in which the thoughts, arguments, emotions, 
appeals, and general significance of the entire 
discourse are gathered together and so used 
with reference to the audience, occasion, and 
purpose, as to make upon the minds, hearts, 
[115] 



The Spoken Word 



determination of those that hear, a single, 
definite, profound, and indelible impression. 
Thus the conclusion is the focus of all that 
precedes, in which the various elements of ef- 
fective oratory are centered and where they 
glow and burn with their greatest intensity." 

A good conclusion always concludes. Have 
you ever heard a speaker hint that he was ap- 
proaching the end of his discourse only to go 
on with a thought that had just occurred to 
him ? If you have, you know what to avoid 
in your own discourse. "We should be care- 
ful to finish the discussion of our theme be- 
fore we indicate that the conclusion has been 
reached. And if, at the moment of finishing, 
we happen to think of anything, however 
vital, it had better be left to another time 
and place altogether." 

In general three principal ways of closing 
an address may be noted. One is to close 
abruptly. Not every address therefore re- 
quires a formal conclusion. "The full de- 
velopment of the discourse is thus made its 
ending, care being taken that the last item 
shall be of weight and dignity. This is by no 
[116] 



Divisions of a Speech 



means the easiest form of conclusion, but 
rightly managed it is one of the most ef- 
fective." Another way is to condense in a 
few words the whole drift of what has been 
said. This may be done especially where 
the speech is intellectual in its nature — where 
it appeals to the mind. And a third way of 
closing an address is by an application of the 
idea advanced. The ideal conclusion, of 
whatever nature it may be, is the one that 
leaves either such a question as Peter's au- 
dience asked on the day of Pentecost, "Men 
and brethren, what shall we do?" or the 
answer of the Grecian crowd to Demos- 
thenes, "Let us go up against Philip !" 



[117] 



CHAPTER FIVE 

DEBATING 

A good deal of what I have said thus far 
applies to debating, but some aspects of this 
special form of public speaking deserve sep- 
arate attention. 

Value of Debating 

Debating implies two or more parties to a 
dispute. A debate may be formal, as when 
two organizations argue a proposition; or it 
may be informal, as a discussion in a legis- 
lative assembly. 

This form of public address calls for pe- 
culiar mental traits. It requires the ability 
to see clearly a point, to segregate this point 
and hold it up before the mind, and to mar- 
shal reasons for or against it. But it de- 
mands more than this. A dispute engenders 
more or less feeling, except in the! trained 
[118] 



Debating 



disputant. Hence the debater, more than 
the orator, needs to keep his head. 

Debating, however, more than other forms 
of public speaking, is attended 'by certain 
abuses peculiar to this form of address. 
One of these is that it is likely to make a per- 
son contentious, inclined to quibble, to lose 
track of important points in the chase after 
trifles. Another is that it is apt to lend itself 
to dishonesty in the debater. Being a con- 
test where a decision is rendered one side or 
the other, the debater, unless he is careful 
and conscientious, will find himself thinking 
more of victory than of truth and using 
questionable means in order to win the de- 
cision. This, sometimes takes the form of 
belittling an opponent's (argument instead 
of answering it, sometimes that of using the 
exact language of another without credit, 
sometimes that of actual misstatement of 
facts and figures, or the suppression of them, 
in order to bolster up a weak point. All of 
which is mean, contemptible, and unfair. It 
is doubtless this f side of debating that led 
Colonel Roosevelt to say that he was glad 
[119] 



The Spoken Word 



he did not while in college "take part in the 
type of debate in which stress is laid, not 
upon getting a speaker to think rightly, but 
on getting him to talk glibly on the side 
to which he is assigned, without regard to 
what his convictions are or ought to be." 

But debating has another side, fortunately. 
The clash involved in debating sharpens the 
debater's mind. It makes him keen to see 
not only his own points but also those of his 
opponent, for see them he must, and that 
fairly and squarely, before he can answer 
them. Practical debaters, therefore, unless 
they are of the captious variety, are apt to 
see both sides of any question confronting 
them. It also teaches discrimination. The 
debater has to tell what is a point from what 
is not a point, to pick out what will help him 
and throw out what will not. Again, it 
trains him in the ordering of material with 
a view to making the most telling effect on 
his hearers. It is one thing to have a lot of 
good points, but quite another to marshal 
them so as to produce the desired effect. To 
be sure, there are other forms of discourse 
[120] 



Debating 



that aim at the same result; there is none, 
however, that does so under such stress and 
push of the mental powers. Generally not 
all the truth lies on one side of a question. 
At all events, no question should be chosen 
for discussion where the truth is all on one 
side. So that Mr. Roosevelt's objection is 
merely leveled at one-sided questions ; it is an 
objection, not to debating as such, but rather 
to the way in which it is carred on, to 
method. 

Wording of a Question 

In public speaking we develop a theme, in 

a debate we argue a question. 

A "question" in daily parlance means that 
information is called for. Thus, "Are you 
going to town this morning?" is a question, 
requires an answer, and is ended by an in- 
terrogation point. The word 'question" in 
debating signifies a statement, a proposition, 
and always closes in a period. Thus, "The 
United States should prohibit the shipment 
of war munitions to Europe," is a question. 
These two meanings should be kept distinct. 
[121] 



The Spoken Word 



In searching for a question to debate care 
should be exercised. Religion is not a good 
subject to debate, because it is one on which 
people feel intensely. Then, again, it should 
be one question, not two questions. "Gov- 
ernment should own and control the rail- 
roads" is two questions, one involving the 
ownership, and the other the operation, of 
railroads. Current questions are more in- 
teresting than such old questions as that the 
American Indian has been mistreated by the 
whites. 

The wording of a question should receive 
attention. It must be in the form of a state- 
ment, it must be one question, it should be 
affirmatively put, and it must have two sides 
pretty evenly divided. An example of such 
a question is : "Resolved, That the United 
States should intervene in Mexico." 

Gathering Material 

When we come to gathering material on a 
debate, the following points should be help- 
ful. 

First, be sure you understand the question 
[122] 



Debating 



to be debated. Scrutinize closely the ques- 
tion as a whole and the various words in the 
question. Be accurate. Get the exact mean- 
ing of the words, instead of saying to your- 
self, "Oh, that's near enough !" Use for this 
purpose the dictionary and the authorities on 
the subject of the question. 

Secondly, look for material in your own 
mind before you go to books and other peo- 
ple. Don't try at first to get points on your 
side, but think and read and converse with 
a view to getting a general understanding 
of the subject. It will pay you to do this — - 
you will have a larger grasp of the question 
than you otherwise would. It places you 
above your material, not in it. 

Thirdly, get your issues. An issue in de- 
bate is a fundamental point on which the 
two sides differ. After you get a bird's-eye 
view of the whole subject, you are then in a 
position to set down points to be debated — 
reasons for your side of the question. 
Whether these points are issues will depend 
on certain tests. Ascertain, first, whether 
your opponent is likely to admit it. If he 
[123] 



The Spoken Word 



can admit it without hurting his argument, 
then it is noH an issue. Next, ascertain 
whether it is a big point ; if so, and it will be 
disputed, it is most likely an issue. Set down 
as many of these points as you can discover, 
reduce them to as few issues as you can, ar- 
range them in the most telling order, the 
strongest last — and you are then ready to 
collect material on each issue by itself. 

Having gathered in a general way ma- 
terial on the question and decided on the 
issues to be proved, you should agree with 
your companions on the division of the is- 
sues on your particular side. This done, each 
speaker proceeds to work up his part in the 
debate. Usually there are three speakers on 
a side, although there may be more than 
three or only two. These ought to work so 
closely in touch with one another as to make 
of their combined addresses one continued 
speech, with a beginnig, a middle, and an 
end. They should, in other words, do good 
team-work, as this perfect articulation of dif- 
ferent parts in a debate is called. In order, 
however, to get this single effect from the 
[124] 



Debating 



three speeches, it will be necessary to dis- 
tribute the issues. If there are, say, five is- 
sues and three speakers, one may give the 
introductory material and one of the points 
and the other speakers two points each. 
Each speaker will be required to make a re- 
buttal. 

Arguing A Proposition 
Let us discuss each of the parts of the af- 
firmative or the negative side of a debate 
viewed as one address, just as we did in the 
oration proper. 

The opening statement is very important, 
especially on the affirmative side. Perhaps 
you may have played marbles in your day 
and cried out, "Clearance !" before your an- 
tagonist could shout, "Vent-clearance!" 
You meant that you wished to remove some 
obstacle that lay between your hand and the 
marble in the ring. Well, your introduc- 
tion to the debate aims to clear away what- 
ever intervenes between the minds of the au- 
dience and the precise points to be proved 
by you. You may have to tell how the ques- 
[125] 



The Spoken Word 



tion arose, for this often throws light on it; 
you should separate the points you are will- 
ing to grant from those you are not, narrow- 
ing your matter as you go till you reach the 
precise points in question ; and you may want 
to inform the audience how your side pro- 
poses to conduct the discussion. This done, 
you are ready to give your part of the argu- 
ment. But you must be careful not to take 
too much time in this clearing process, else 
you may have to omit some of the argument. 
Still you must take enough time to set the 
proposition to be debated squarely before the 
minds of your opponents and the audience. 
Clearness in stating a case is almost an argu- 
ment in itself ; at any rate, it often does away 
with the necessity for argument. Abraham 
Lincoln, for instance, sometimes did not 
argue, he merely stated the matter in ques- 
tion so clearly that the jury saw it, and no 
argument was necessary. The opening 
speech may, if it is desirable, be written and 
memorized ; though, in debate, it is better to 
be so thoroughly prepared that you are full 
of the subject and can speak freely. 
[126] 



Debating 



Next comes the argument. This easily 
divides itself into the argument proper set- 
ting forth your issues and the proofs for 
them, and the refutation of your opponent's 
issues. The principal thing, of course, is the 
building up of your side of the question, 
especially if you are on the affirmative side, 
for "he who asserts must prove," is the great 
rule in debate. To be sure, you should re- 
fute the points brought up by the other side, 
but you must build up your own side. Refu- 
tation is perhaps of more consequence to neg- 
ative speakers, for, although they may and 
often do construct an argument of their own, 
all they really need to do is to show by refu- 
tation that the affirmative speakers have not 
proved their case. The work of refutation 
may either be distributed throughout the 
main speeches or be collected and given in 
one place, as may seem best under the cir- 
cumstances. 

The conclusion in debating is called re- 
buttal. Each speaker is supposed to rebut 
the points brought against the issues he dis- 
cusses. The work of rebuttal is two-fold. 
[127] 



The Spoken Word 



On the one hand, it gathers in brief, compact, 
clarified form the whole strength of your ar- 
gument, or, if you are the last speaker on 
your side, and, on the other hand, it sum- 
marizes the whole case for the opposition, 
and holds these up for contrast before the 
audience and the judges. It is especially de- 
sirable here to be perfectly fair in stating 
your own case so as not to overestimate your 
arguments, and also in stating the other side 
so as not to underestimate its points. John 
Stuart Mill, it is said, always put the case of 
the opposition even stronger than they were 
able to put it themselves before demolishing 
it. 

What Proof Is 

Before actually delivering the argument you 
have prepared, you ought to re-examine your 
material to make sure that you really have 
proof instead of only assertion. 

"Now it is clear," says Mr. Lyon most ad- 
mirably, in his "Elements of Debating," 
"that neither the audience nor the judges 
can be led to agree with us and to accept our 
[128] 



Debating 



issues as proved, by our telling them that we 
should like to have them believe in the sound- 
ness of our views. Neither can we succeed 
in convincing them by telling them that they 
ought to believe as we wish. The modern 
audience is not to be cajoled or browbeaten 
into belief. How, then, are we to persuade 
our hearers to accept our assertions as true? 
The method is to give them what they de- 
mand — reasons. We must tell them why 
every statement is true. This process of tell- 
ing why the issues are true so effectively that 
the audience and judges believe them to be 
true is called proof. 

"Naturally, the reasons that we give in 
support of the issues will be no better than 
the issues themselves, unless we know what 
reasons the audience will believe. And 
how are we to know what reasons the au- 
dience will believe? We can best answer 
that! question by determining why we our- 
selves believe those things which we accept. 
Why do we believe anything? We believe 
that water is wet; the sky, blue; fire, hot; 
and sugar, sweet, because in our experience 
[129] 



The Spoken Word 



we have always found them so. These 
things we believe because we have expe- 
rienced them ourselves. There are other 
things that we believe in a similar way. We 
believe that not every newspaper report is 
reliable. We believe that a statement in the 
Outlook, the Reviezu of Reviezvs, or the 
World's Work is likely to be more trust- 
worthy than a yellow headline in the Morn- 
ing Bugle. Our own experience, plus what 
we have heard of the experience of others, 
has led us to this belief. But there are still 
other things that we believe although we 
have not experienced them at all. We be- 
lieve that Columbus visited America in 1492, 
that Grant was a great general, that Wash- 
ington was our first president. Directly, 
these things have never been experienced by 
us, but indirectly they have. Others, within 
whose experience these things have fallen, 
have led us to accept them so thoroughly that 
they have become our experience second 
hand. 

"If we are told that a man who was in the 
Iroquois Theater was seriously burned, it 
[130] 



Debating 



seems reasonable to us because our exper- 
ience recognizes burning as the result of such 
a situation. But if we are told that a man 
who fell into the water emerged dry, or that 
a general who served under Washington 
was born in 1830, we discredit it because such 
statements are not in accord with our ex- 
perience. We are ready, then, to answer 
our questoin : 'What reason will those in 
the audience believe?' They will believe 
those statements which harmonize with their 
own experience, and will discredit those 
which are at variance with their experience. 
This experience, we have seen, may be first 
hand, or direct; or it may be second hand, 
or indirect. 

'In every case, the speaker's argument 
must base every issue upon reasons that rest 
on what the hearers believe because of their 
own direct or indirect experience. Sup- 
pose I assert: 'John Quinn was a danger- 
ous man.' Someone says : 'Prove that state- 
ment.' I answer : 'He was a thief.' Some- 
one says : 'If (that is true he was a bad 
man, but can you prove him a thief?' Then 
[131] 



The Spoken Word 



I produce a copy of a court record which 
states that, on a certain day, a duly consti- 
tuted court found John Quinn guilty of rob- 
bing a bank. All my hearers now admit, not 
only that he wasf a thief, but also that he 
was a dangerous person. I have given them 
a reason for my statement, and a reason for 
that reason, until at last I have shown them 
that my assertion that John Quinn is a 
dangerous citizen, rests on what they them- 
selves believe — that a court record is re- 
liable." 

These reasons constitute evidence. But 
evidence, whether direct or indirect, some- 
times needs to be tested, either in itself or in 
its source. The sources of evidence are read- 
ing and observation. If we wish to quote 
authority in support of one of our issues, or 
if our opponent does so, and we desire to 
test this evidence, we ascertain, first, 
whether the person quoted really is an au- 
thority — that is, whether he has had unusual 
experience or unusual opportunities with re- 
spect to the matter in question — and, sec- 
ondly, whether, if so, he is generally recog- 
[132] 



Debating 



nized in his field of investigation. We must 
be very careful of the authority we use as 
evidence, and we must also be careful of the 
authority we accept from our friends of the 
opposition. Or, again, we may wish to ex- 
amine the evidence which rests on some one's 
observation. If so, these are the questions 
we ask : "Are there any physical defects, 
such as poor eyesight, hearing, and so forth, 
that impair accuracy of observation? Are 
there any mental defects, such as imperfect 
memory, eccentricities of mind, or inability 
to express clearly the idea in mind, that 
might give a false impression? Are there 
any moral defects shown by lying, exaggera- 
tion, interest in the outcome of the contro- 
versy, that might lead to distortion of the 
truth?" The evidence itself may be tested 
by asking whether it is consistent with itself, 
with ordinaryi human experience, and with 
other known facts of the case. 

Making a Brief 

The best way to make sure that the issues we 

have to prove are substantiated by evidence 

[133] 



The Spoken Word 



that will stand the test is to make what is 
called in debating parlance a brief. 

Now, a brief is merely an outline, after a 
certain approved pattern, of all the material 
we are to present. Youthful debaters it is 
sometimes hard to convince that it is neces- 
sary to make a brief, since it requires a good 
deal of time and thought. They prefer to 
run the risk of not being found out in their 
lack of complete preparation or they think 
they can prepare sufficiently without the aid 
of a brief. The experience of the best de- 
baters is to the effect that a good brief really 
saves time, for it conduces to clearness and 
thoroughness in the preparation, just as get- 
ting brick, lumber, concrete, and other ma- 
terial used in building when put in the right 
form help the contractor when he comes to 
erect the structure. A brief is a concise and 
logical arrangement of the material to be 
used in the debate. 

In making a brief this is the approved 
form, which I take from Mr. Lyon's book: 
Introduction. 

■■ I. Definition of terms. 
[134] 



Debating 



II. Restatement of question in light of 
these terms. 

III. Determination of issues. 

1. Statement of what both sides 
admit. 

2. Statement of what is irrelevant. 

IV. Statement of issues. 
Proof. 

I. The first issue is true, for : 

1. This reason, which is true, for: 

(1) This reason. 

(2) This reason. 

2. This reason, for : 

(1) This evidence. 

(2) This testimony. 

(3) This authority. 
II. This second issue is true, for : 

1. This reason, for : 

(1) This reason. 

2. This reason, for : 

(1) This reason. 

(2) This reason. 
III. The third issue is true, for : 

1. This reason, etc. 



[135] 



The Spoken Word 



IV. The fourth issue is true, for: 
1. This reason, etc. 
Thus the proposition that John Quinn was 
a dangerous man may be briefed as follows : 
1. He was a thief, for: 

( 1 ) The state court found him guilty 
of robbing a bank, for : 

(a) See 111. Court Re- 
ports, Vol. X., p. 83. 

Management of a Debate 

Just a word, finally, about the management 

of a debate. 

As stated, a team in debating may consist 
of two, three, or even more speakers. A 
team of three is better than any other num- 
ber because there can be given practice in de- 
bating for more people and at the same time 
not tire an audience of an evening. 

Each speaker is allowed time for a main 
speech and a rebuttal. The rebuttal is usu- 
ally one-half as long as the main speech. 
Thus, if the main speech is twelve minutes 
in length, the rebuttal ought to be six min- 
utes. 

[136] 



Debating 



The order of speaking, where there are 
three speakers on a side, is this : First, af- 
firmative; second, negative; third, affirma- 
tive ; fourth, negative ; fifth, affirmative ; and 
sixth, negative. The order for the rebuttals 
is : First, negative ; second affirmative, and 
so on, the affirmative to close the debate. 

A chairman presides, whose duty it is, be- 
sides calling the meeting to order, to an- 
nounce the question, introduce the speakers, 
and read the decision of the judges. There 
should also be two timekeepers, representing 
both sides of the debate. The timekeepers 
tap at the expiration of each speaker's time 
and also give warning a minute or so, ac- 
cording to the desire of the debaters, before 
the expiration of the time. 

The customary form of salutation by the 
speaker is, "Mr. Chairman, worthy oppon- 
ents, honorable judges, ladies and gentle- 
men." They may, however, omit, if they 
choose, the second and third, since they are 
really included in the last. In referring to 
the other speakers, a debater should never 
say, "He said," or "Mr. Walton said," but 
[137] 



The Spoken Word 



rather, "The first speaker on the affirmative 
said," or "The gentlemen of the negative 
said." Debaters should always be respectful 
and courteous to one another, whatever dis- 
turbances of temper they may feel. 

Generally there are three judges. The 
more judges there are, the more likely they 
are to represent the opinions of the audi- 
ence. The judges ought, of course, to be 
competent and free from any personal inter- 
est in who wins the debate. It is coming 
more and more to be believed that the ideal 
debate should be a non-decision debate, for 
it is usually the decision that creates feeling 
afterwards in the debaters and their friends. 
But perhaps we have not Arrived at this 
ideal stage yet. 



[138] 



CHAPTER SIX 

DELIVERY 

We come now to the matter of delivering a 
speech before an audience. What is said here 
is intended to apply to the delivery of an 
oration, address, sermon, or an argument in 
a debate. 

Where to Carry a Speech 
A speech is really not a speech at all until it 
is delivered. It may have been written with 
that intention, and as such may be very good 
literature. But it is not, properly speak- 
ing, a speech till its message, coming from 
the living heart and going to living hearts, 
is communicated by means of the voice. 

There are, in the phrase of Professor 
Lawrence, but two places for a man to carry 
a speech, one in his head and the other on 
paper. No one who has ever heard a speech 
read, no matter how well the job has been 
done, can have any lingering doubt that the 
better of these two places is the head. But 
[139] 



The Spoken Word 



there are two ways by which one may carry 
an address in his head. Either he may 
memorize the discourse, entire or in part, 
or he may carry there only the thought, 
trusting to the occasion for the clothing of 
that thought in words. And again, whoever 
has heard the two methods of delivery will 
have little difficulty, in ordinary cases, in de- 
ciding in favor of the latter. 

"An extemporaneous speaker," says Pro- 
fessor Lawrence, "gathers his material and 
stores it in the recesses of his brain until it 
is required; he forms his method of speech 
from a study of the literature of all ages ; 
he enriches his vocabulary by paying atten- 
tion to how other men have produced effects 
by the expressive use of words; he studies 
the sciences, arts, and letters" — and I would 
add, theology and religion ; — "he practices 
to make his voice a fitting vehicle to convey 
the knowledge he has thus gained, and, when 
the occasion arises for him to give utter- 
ance to his ideas, they come 'like the out- 
breaking of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, 
original, native force.' " 
[140] 



Delivery 



In the "Mormon" Church the method 
universally adopted is the extemporaneous. 
Indeed, there is a very strong prejudice 
against any other. This arises partly by rea- 
son of the long practice by our speakers of 
this method but partly by reason of the ap- 
plication of a phrase in the New Testament, 
repeated in one of the revelations to the 
Prophet Joseph Smith, about not "taking 
thought" as to what the apostles should say. 
But neither this phrase nor the practice of 
speakers generally among us or in the world 
precludes the advisability of preparation be- 
forehand, not of course to the extent of mem- 
orizing words, but certainly of getting ideas. 
The Holy Spirit can operate as freely, to 
say the least, on a full mind as He can on an 
empty. At all events, the extemporaneous 
is very properly encouraged among the Lat- 
ter-day Saints. 

Conversational Delivery 
"Public Speaking," says Professor Winans, 
in a luminous chapter in his "Public Speak- 
ing" recently published, "is a perfectly na- 
[141] 



The Spoken Word 



tural act, which calls for no strange, artifi- 
cal methods, but only for an extension and 
development of that most familiar act, con- 
versation." 

The style in vogue nowadays is the con- 
versational. Formerly — and an echo of this 
still lingers in the practice of the immature — 
there was a pulpit style that was pompous, 
artificial, often ranting. This, however, has 
long since gone out of fashion, thanks to 
Wendell Phillips, whose style of oratory is 
characterized by Thomas Wentworth Hig- 
ginson as "essentially conversational — the 
conversational raised to its highest power;" 
and it has been supplanted by an easier, more 
natural manner. 

The conversational style of public speech 
is not conversational in that it is ordinarily 
just like conversation, as Professor Winans 
takes care to point out. The public speaker, 
for instance, stands before an audience or a 
group of persons, whereas the converser does 
not. Also the orator speaks louder in the 
pulpit than he would in the parlor. And it 
is not true, of course, that one "speaks to an 
[142] 



Delivery 



audience just as to one person." We are not 
to suppose, when we are advised to be con- 
versational in our public speaking, that we 
are to make it sound like conversation, that 
we are to be less careful, dignified, strong, 
or eloquent than we should be otherwise, that 
we are to adopt "a style," properly called, or 
that we are to be 'natural" in the sense that 
we are not to cultivate the art of speech. 
Not at all. On the contrary, we are to un- 
derstand, first, that we are toi have, when 
we speak in public, " a full realization of the 
content of words," and, secondly, "a lively 
sense of communication." To be conversa- 
tional, then, in public speaking is to have 
the same attitude of mind that we have in 
good conversation. 

"Young speakers too often look upon pub- 
lic speaking as an exhibition; and older 
speakers frequently fall into a perfunctory 
manner, especially those who speak fre- 
quently and in a routine way. Moreover, 
many of those who do in a measure fulfil 
the conversational conditions, suffer from a 
wrong start. The man who begins his career 
[143] 



The Spoken Word 



as a speaker because he has something to 
say which he wishes very much to say, and 
continues for the same reason until his habits 
are fixed, and who has no false notions of 
speaking - , may come naturally to a genuine 
delivery. But if a speaker begins with the 
notion that he speaks to make an exhibition 
of his delivery, or that delivery is an exter- 
nal, mechanical thing to be manipulated ac- 
cording to rule, or in imitation of a model, 
he will probably develop a conventional tone 
and other bad habits that will resist the force 
of even a strongly felt message and an eager 
audience." The counsel, therefore, to be 
conversational in public speaking resolves 
itself into this: Think and feel on your 
feet, instead of merely saying words. 

How to do this is an important question. 
To summarize much of what has already 
been said : You must, first of all, have some- 
thing to say which you think is ■, worth 
saying and which the particular audience will 
be glad to hear, or, if not glad to hear, ought 
to know. This is absolutely the first requi- 
site. Burke and Webster and the rest of the 
[144] 



Delivery 



great orators could not be eloquent if they 
did not have a message. Then, secondly, you 
must prepare thoroughly before you speak. 
Reading, reflection, writing, conversation, 
and speaking much in public — these will fill 
the mind, /making it ready and exact in 
speech. Thirdly, there will follow this 
abundant preparation a readiness to think 
of the ideas, the message, rather than of 
words. And, lastly, a keen, lively sense that 
we are communicating something besides 
words. If this does not produce a direct, 
conversational delivery, then nothing can. 
Says Professor Titchner in a private letter 
to Professor Winans and quoted in the lat- 
ter's book : "The one prime requisite is self- 
forgetfulness, absorption in the subject for 
its own sake, — such forgetfulness as shall 
leave one as unconcerned before an audience 
as in one's study. * * * I know of no 
golden rule, still less of any royal road. In- 
accuracy, carelessness, half-devotion, — these 
are the bane of our students ; once a man is 
earnest enough to forget himself, to be ready 
to laugh at himself with the audience without 
[145] 



The Spoken Word 



losing his head, to forget how he looks and 
feels, he is successful and persuasive with 
or without technical knowledge and practice ; 
though of course these things are assets, if 
he has them." 

It must not be taken for granted, however, 
that a conversational delivery is necessarily- 
good. This, although deeply fundamental, is 
not the only quality necessary to effective 
delivery. A delivery may be conversational 
and at the same time have defects that tend to 
counteract the good effects of this larger 
quality — such, for example, as faulty pro-. 
nunciation, indistinct enunciation, and 
throaty tones. Hence the necessity, in addi- 
tion to being conversational, of cultivating 
other qualities of public speaking. 



[146] 



CHAPTER SEVEN 
ILLUSTRATIONS 

Following are two speeches, the first of an 
address proper and complete in itself, the 
second, which is only a part of a speech, of 
an argument. Study them carefully. 

"MORMONISM" AND ITS PURPOSE 
Orson F. Whitney 

INTRODUCTION 

If you will pardon me, I will relate a little 
anecdote. 

Two Irish soldiers were once practicing 
with a cannon, and in order to economize and 
not waste their ammunition, one of them, 
while his friend stood at the breech of the 
gun to touch it off, planted himself squarely 
in front of it, with a brass kettle in which 
to catch the ball. Said he to the man at the 
breech : "Touch it off aisy, Pat." 

And so I say to my critics : Gentlemen, 
if you must fire at me, touch it off easy, and 
if I cannot catch your cannon balls, I will 
at least try to endure them. 
[147] 



The Spoken Word 



I am expected to speak upon the sub- 
ject of "Mormonism and Its Purposes." 

DISCUSSION 

1. Let me first inform you that we do 
not recognize the term "Mormonism" as the 
proper title of our religion. It is only a nick- 
name bestowed upon the faith of the Latter- 
day Saints, just as the name "Christian" was 
given in derision to the followers of Jesus 
of Nazareth by the unbelievers of Antioch. 

But names matter very little; it is prin- 
ciples we are discussing. A jewel covered 
with cobwebs and dust is still a jewel, and 
truth is truth whatever it may be called, and 
is not to be disposed of by pelting it with 
epithets. "Mormonism", to me, is but an- 
other name for God's truth, and to find the 
fulness of that truth we would have to bring 
together and aggregate the truth of all re- 
ligions, adding thereto all others that God 
would or could reveal. 

2. This religion called "Mormonism" is 
no new thing. According to our view it is 
the oldest of all religions. It has been upon 

[148] 



Whitney 



the earth in different ages, being revealed 
from heaven from time to time as often as 
it became necessary to renew the sacred fire 
upon the altar of the human heart, and to 
revive in men's souls the knowledge of truth 
which they had turned from and forgotten. 
3. Its object from the first has been man's 
salvation — the salvation of all men, who are 
universally the children of God. You who 
have supposed that "Mormonism" is a nar- 
row and exclusive faith, have not under- 
stood it aright. If I knew of a religion that 
was broader and better, I would embrace it. 
But to me it is the broadest, the best, the 
most reasonable of all religions, and conse- 
quently I remain a "Mormon". My religion 
proposes to save all men, but to save them 
upon just and consistent principles; not the 
rewarding of one soul for the good done by 
another, nor the punishment of the innocent 
for the misdeeds of the guilty, nor the never- 
ending punishment of any soul ; but the judg- 
ing of all men according to their works, and 
their salvation according to their merits in 
different degrees of glory. 
[149] 



The Spoken Word 



4. "Mormonism" teaches that God was 
once like ourselves, that the Eternal was 
enshrined in mortal flesh, subject to mortal 
ills and earthly pains and toils. I do not 
refer to the experience of the Savior in the 
meridian of time. I mean that in the far 
away aeons of the past God once dwelt upon 
an earth like this, and through its trials and 
vicissitudes and the experience they afforded, 
ascended finally, by obedience to certain prin- 
ciples ennobling- and exalting in their nature, 
to the plane which He now occupies. 

5. These truths, forming the ladder up 
which He climbed to celestial heights, up 
which we too are expected to climb from 
earth to heaven, from mortality to immortal- 
ity, from a world where grief and sorrow 
reign, to a better and brighter sphere where 
sorrow and '(Suffering are unknown — these 
truths are jself-exiistent and eternal. God 
did not create them. Intelligence, the light 
of truth, cannot be created. But by means 
of His superior intelligence, which is His 
glory and which makes Him God, He insti- 
tuted laws whereby the rest, the lesser intelli- 

[150] 



Whitney 



g'ences, might advance like Himself. These 
laws we call the Gospel, the plan of salva- 
tion, formulated in the heavens before this 
world was, and revealed again and again to 
the children of Adam for their salvation. 

6. We hold that men are literally 
the sons and daughters of God; that He in- 
tends we shall become like Him; and it is 
certainly reasonable to expect that the child 
will eventually develop to the status of the 
Parent. We are divine beings in embryo, 
and it is only a question of time when we 
shall blossom in perfection. 

7. We believe that in that pre-existent 
life, where the spirits of all men once dwelt, 
a Savior was prepared, pre-ordained to die 
for the salvation of the world. We also be- 
lieve that other great and noble ones were 
selected — prophets, poets, philosophers, re- 
formers, painters, sculptors — and sent into 
the world to play their parts, to hold aloft 
the torch of God-given genius to illumine the 
pathway leading to perfection. 

All good gifts are from God, from Him 
who sent us forth into this school to learn 
[151] 



The Spoken Word 



life's lessons, to assist each other to learn, 
and, having gained our education, to return 
to Him perfected, and dwell in peace eter- 
nally. All things sent forth will again seek 
their origin, as naturally as the raindrops 
sprinkled upon the hills trickle back to the 
ocean whence they came. 

8. We believe that Adam was pre-or- 
dained to fall, and that it was part of the 
eternal plan that he should fall. "Adam fell 
that man might be", says "Mormonism" ; 
became mortal for our sakes, that our spirits 
might tabernacle in the flesh, and work our 
way back through thorns and briers to the 
glorious gardens of Paradise. The fall of 
Adam was as necessary in the divine plan as 
the redemption wrought by Jesus Christ. 

9. But to Adam was revealed the Gos- 
pel, and by means of it he regained Para- 
dise, or the presence of his Maker, from 
which, for a wise purpose, he had been tem- 
porarily banished — eternally banished but 
for the atonement of the Savior. To Enoch 
also was given the same Gospel, either by 
transmission from Adam or by direct reve- 

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Whitney 



lation from the Almighty. Noah also had a 
dispensation of the Gospel committed to 
him, and no doubt transmitted its truths to 
his posterity — to the nations which sprang 
from him. 

I was conversing once with a gentleman, 
with whom I have been more or less intimate, 
and he was seeking to prove to me that Jesus 
of Nazareth was not the original thinker 
that men suppose Him. He showed that 
Confucius, the Chinese sage, taught long 
before Christ, that it was right for one to 
do unto others as he would wish others to 
do unto him, and he thought this proved 
Jesus to be a plagiarist. To me it proved 
nothing of the kind. It indicated that 
Confucius had become possessed of a portion 
of the old Gospel, the same yesterday, to-day, 
and forever, either by inheritance from Noah, 
whom the Chinese claim as their great an- 
cestor, or by direct inspiration from heaven. 
And the fact that Jesus afterwards taught a 
similar doctrine when He introduced the 
Gospel in the meridian of time does not prove 
Him a plagiarist, but rather a restorer — a 
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restorer of that which was previously pos- 
sessed by Noah, Abraham, and Moses, but 
which had been lost and forgotten so long by 
their descendants that when preached to the 
Jews by Jesus they were "astonished at his 
doctrine". 

Would not the similarities that exist be- 
tween some Christian and some heathen doc- 
trines indicate that both had a common 
origin? Our Salt Lake is supposed to be the 
residue of a great inland sea that once surged 
against the mountain sides, making islands 
of the loftiest summits, covering the whole 
area of the Great Basin and communicating 
with the Pacific Ocean. That sea gradually 
diminished until the lake of to-day, though 
similar in character, is but a mere pond by 
comparison. May not the religions of Asia, 
though differing in some respects from 
Christianity, the ancient Gospel of which I 
have been speaking, and yet containing 
truths belonging to it, be as so many pools of 
water caught in the hollows of the ground 
or in holes of the rock as the great flood of 
truth rushed by? The truths of these re- 
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Whitney 



ligions have doubtless been mixed with the 
doctrines of men, but so are the truths of 
Christianity. We are all apt to depart from 
the truth in its primitive purity; hence the 
need of continued restorations. 

10. We hold that in these latter times 
God has again restored to earth the everlast- 
ing Gospel, that this is the dispensation of 
the fulness of times into which flow all 
former dispensations, like rills and rivers 
emptying into the ocean ; that "He who scat- 
tered Israel will gather him and keep him as 
a shepherd doth his flock;" that Zion will be 
built up on this continent and Jerusalem re- 
built in the land of Palestine ; that all things 
in Christ, both in heaven and on earth, are to 
be gathered in one, according to the predic- 
tion of Paul the Apostle. It is the purpose 
of "Mormonism", which heralds the second 
coming of Christ, to prepare the world for 
that coming. 

The prophets and the poets of the past 

have spoken of a time to come when the 

earth should rest, and nation should war no 

more against nation; when men, as Burns 

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says in beautiful simplicity, would "broth- 
ers be and a' that" ; and when, as Tennyson 
prophetically declares, the war drum shall 
throb no longer, and the battle flags be 
furled 

In the parliament of man, 
The federation of the world. 

When white-winged peace would spread her 
wings abroad, and grim-visaged war would 
sit at her feet and learn wisdom for a thou- 
sand years. We think that time is draw- 
ing nigh; that the Almighty has set His 
hand to accomplish just such a work ; that we 
are living in the Saturday night of the 
world's history, near the end of that week 
of Time, each day of which is a thousand 
years; and that the seventh day, or Sabbath, 
will be the day of rest, the Millennium, the 
reign of peace and righteousness which the 
prophets and the poets have predicted. 

The Almighty, I believe, began this phase 

of His work when He sent Columbus across 

the sea to unveil this hidden hemisphere. 

He it was who nerved the arm and fired the 

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Whitney 



soul of a Washington to fight and win free- 
dom's battle on this chosen land, and who in- 
spired the pen of a Jefferson to write in 
words of flame the declaration of American 
Independence. I revere the Constitution as 
an emanation of Divinity and, I believe, we 
will yet see the principles upon which this 
great government was founded — principles 
of justice, freedom, and equality — prevail the 
wide world over. God did not found this na- 
tion for a mere handful of His children. He 
founded it for all mankind. And when He 
bound together these United States, it was 
but a type, a symbol and a foreshadowing 
of a united world. All nations will yet join 
hands as these States have done, and this, in 
my opinion, will only be the prelude to a 
work still greater, lifting from earth that 
curse which has so long rested upon it, and 
uniting it as a glorious link in the grand 
chain of redeemed worlds that circle about 
the throne of their Creator. 

COMMENT AND ANALYSIS 

Situation: This address was delivered as 
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"the principal feature of the proceedings of 
the Unitarian conference" in Salt Lake City, 
at the invitation of the Reverend Dr. Utter, 
and was to be discussed at the same session 
by Dr. Utter and others. 

Theme: Such being the conditions under 
which the address was delivered, the theme 
is necessarily general in its nature — a bird's- 
eye view of "Mormonism". The subject as 
assigned beforehand was, "Mormonism and 
Its Purposes". It does not therefore go into 
details. 

Introduction: It begins interestingly — 
with an anecdote, which catches the spirit 
of the gathering and at the same time hints 
at the tenor of the theme, its strangeness to 
the audience. The theme is specifically men- 
tioned. The introduction is also short and 
to the point. 

Discussion: First, each of the ten phases 
is discussed by itself, and all that is needed 
given at the time. Secondly, all the topics 
are obviously related, each growing natur- 
ally out of the preceding. Thirdly, the topics 
are connected by such words as "but" in the 
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Whitney 



second paragraph of topic 11, "this religion" 
in topic 2, and "these truths" in the fifth. 
Fourthly,space is given according to the new- 
ness of the idea to the audience and the need 
for explanation. 

Conclusion: There is no formal conclu- 
sion — none is needed. The theme naturally 
ends by coming back to the point of begin- 
ning. 

Style: The address is expository rather 
than narrative or argumentative, although 
there is some argument in it, as where Elder 
Whitney asks whether it is not reasonable 
to believe that all religions are related. The 
address, like all of this great preacher's ser- 
mons, abounds in comparisons, which are 
very luminous ; as, for instance, where he 
speaks of the Salt Lake. Notice that the tone 
is elevated throughout, in strict keeping with 
the high thoughts expounded. After the 
theme is once launched, there is no dropping 
in a single word. 



[159] 



CONCILIATION WITH AMERICA 

Burke 

This fierce spirit of liberty is stronger in 
the English colonies probably than in any 
other people of the earth; and this from a 
great variety of powerful causes; which, to 
understand the true temper of their minds, 
and the direction which this spirit takes, it 
will not be amiss to lay open somewhat more 
largely. 

First, the people of the colonies are de- 
scendants of Englishmen. England, Sir, is a 
nation, which still I hope respects, and form- 
erly adored, her freedom. The colonists 
emigrated from you when this part of your 
character was most predominant; and they 
took this bias and direction the moment they 
parted from your hands. They are there- 
fore not only devoted to liberty, but to lib- 
erty according to English ideas, and on Eng- 
lish principles. Abstract liberty, like other 
mere abstractions, is not to be found. Lib- 
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Burke 

erty inheres in some sensible object; and 
every nation has formed to itself some favor- 
ite point, which by way of eminence becomes 
the criterion of their happiness. It hap- 
pened, you know, Sir, that the great contests 
for freedom in this country were from the 
earliest times chiefly upon the question of 
taxing. Most of the contests in the ancient 
commonwealths turned primarily on the 
right of election of magistrates; or on the 
balance among the several orders of the state. 
The question of money was not with them so 
immediate. But in England it was other- 
wise. On this point of taxes the ablest pens, 
and most eloquent tongues, have been exer- 
cised ; the greatest spirits have acted and suf- 
fered. In order to give the fullest satisfac- 
tion concerning the importance of this point, 
it was not only necessary for those who in 
argument defended the excellence of the 
English constitution, to insist on this privi- 
lege of granting money as a dry point of fact, 
and to prove, that the right has been ac- 
knowledged in ancient parchments, and blind 
usages, to reside in a certain body called a 
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House of Commons. They went much 
farther; they attempted to prove, and they 
succeeded, that in theory it ought to be so, 
from the particular nature of a House of 
Commons, as an immediate representative 
of the people; whether the old records had 
delivered this oracle or not. They took in- 
finite pains to inculcate, as a fundamental 
principle, that in all monarchies the people 
must in effect themselves, mediately or im- 
mediately, possess the power of granting 
their own money, or no shadow of liberty 
could subsist. The colonies draw from you, 
as with their life-blood, these ideas and prin- 
ciples. Their love of liberty, as with you, 
fixed and attached on this specific point of 
taxing. Liberty might be safe, or might be 
endangered, in twenty other particulars, 
without their being much pleased or alarmed. 
Here they felt its pulse; and as they found 
that beat, they thought themselves sick or 
sound. I do not say whether they were right 
or wrong in applying your general argu- 
ments to their own case. It is not easy in- 
deed to make a monopoly of theorems and 
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Burke 

corollaries. The fact is, that they did thus 
apply those general arguments; and your 
mode of governing them, whether through 
lenity or indolence, through wisdom or mis- 
take, confirmed them in the imagination, that 
they, as well as you, had an interest in these 
common principles. 

They were further confirmed in this pleas- 
ing error by the form of their provincial 
legislative assemblies. Their governments 
are popular in a high degree; some are 
merely popular; in all the popular represen- 
tative is the most weighty ; and this share of 
the people in their ordinary government 
never fails to inspire them with lofty senti- 
ments, and with a strong aversion from 
whatever tends to deprive them of their chief 
importance. 

If anything were wanting to this necessary 
operation of the form of government, re- 
ligion would have given it a complete effect. 
Religion, always a principle of energy, in 
this new people is no way worn out or im- 
paired; and their mode of professing it is 
also one main cause of this free spirit. The 
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people are Protestants; and of that kind 
which is the most adverse to all implicit sub- 
mission of mind and opinion. This is a per- 
suasion not only favorable to liberty, but 
built upon it. I do not think, Sir, that the 
reason of this averseness in the dissenting 
churches, from all that looks like absolute 
government, is so much to be sought in their 
religious tenets, as in their history. Every 
one knows that the Roman Catholic religion 
is at least coeval with most of the govern- 
ments where it prevails ; that it has gener- 
ally gone hand in hand with them, and re- 
ceived great favor and every kind of sup- 
port from authority. The Church of Eng- 
land too was formed from her cradle under 
the nursing care of regular government. But 
the dissenting interests have sprung up in 
direct opposition to all the ordinary powers 
of the world; and could justify that opposi- 
tion only on a strong claim to natural liberty. 
Their very existence depended on the pow- 
erful and unremitted assertion of that claim. 
All Protestantism, even the most cold and 
passive, is a sort of dissent. But the re- 
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Burke 



ligion most prevalent in our northern colo- 
nies is a refinement on the principle of re- 
sistance; it is the dissidence of dissent, and 
the Protestantism of the Protestant religion. 
This religion, under a variety of denomina- 
toins agreeing in nothing but in the com- 
munion of the spirit of liberty, is predomi- 
nant in most of the northern provinces; 
where the Church of England, notwithstand- 
ing its legal rights, is in reality no more than 
a sort of private sect, not composing most 
probably the tenth of the people. The colo- 
nists left England when this spirit was high, 
and in the emigrants was the highest of all ; 
and even that stream of foreigners, which 
has been constantly flowing into these colo- 
nies, has, for the? greatest part, been com- 
posed of dissenters from the establishments 
of their several countries, and have brought 
with them a temper and character far from 
alien to that of the people with whom they 
mixed. 

Sir, I can perceive by their manner, that 
some gentlemen object to the latitude of this 
description ; because in the southern colonies 
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The Spoken Word 



the Church of England forms a large body, 
and has a regular establishment. It is cer- 
tainly true. There is, however, a circum- 
stance attending these colonies, which, in my 
opinion, fully counterbalances this differ- 
ence, and makes the spirit of liberty still 
more high and haughty than in those to the 
northward. It is, that in Virginia and the 
Carolinas they have a vast multitude of 
slaves. Where this is the case in any part of 
the world, those who are free, are by far the 
most proud and jealous of their freedom. 
Freedom is to them not only an enjoyment, 
but a kind of rank and privilege. Not see- 
ing there, that freedom, as in countries 
where it is a common blessing, and as broad 
and general as the air, may be united with 
much abject toil, with great misery, with all 
the exterior of servitude, liberty looks, 
amongst them, like something that is more 
noble and liberal. I do not mean, Sir, to 
commend the superior morality of this senti- 
ment, which has at least as much pride as 
virtue in it ; but I cannot alter the nature of 
man. The fact is so ; and these people of 
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Burke 

the southern colonies are much more 
strongly, and with a higher and more stub- 
born spirit, attached to liberty, than those 
to the northward. Such were all the ancient 
commonwealths; such were our Gothic an- 
cestors ; such in our days were the Poles ; and 
such will be all masters of slaves, who are 
not slaves themselves. In such a people, the 
haughtiness of domination combines with the 
spirit of freedom, fortifies it, and renders it 
invincible. 

Permit me, Sir, to add another circum- 
stance in our colonies, which contributes no 
mean part towards the growth and effect of 
this untractable spirit. I mean their educa- 
tion. In no country perhaps in the world is 
the law so general a study. The profession 
itself is numerous and powerful ; and in most 
provinces it takes the lead. The greater 
number of the deputies sent to the congress 
were lawyers. But all who read, and most 
do read, endeavor to obtain some smattering 
in that science. I have been told by an emi- 
nent bookseller, that in no branch of his 
business, after tracts of popular devotion, 
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were so many books as those on the law ex- 
ported to the plantations. The colonists have 
now fallen into the way of printing them for 
their own use. I hear that they have sold 
nearly as many of Blackstone's Comment- 
aries in America as in England. General 
Gage marks out this disposition very par- 
ticularly in a letter on your table. He states, 
that all the people in his government are law- 
yers, or smatterers in law; and that in Bos- 
ton they have been enabled, by successful 
chicane, wholly to evade many parts of one 
of your capital penal constitutions. The 
smartness of debate will say, that this knowl- 
edge ought to teach them more clearly the 
rights of legislature, their obligations to obe- 
dience, and the penalties of rebellion. All 
this is mighty well. But my honorable and 
learned friend on the floor, who condescends 
to mark what I say for animadversion, will 
disdain that ground. He has heard, as well 
as I, that when great honors and great emo- 
luments do not win over this knowledge to 
the service of the state, it is a formidable 
adversary to government. If the spirit be 
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Burke 



not tamed and broken by these happy meth- 
ods, it is stubborn and litigious. Abenuni 
studia in mores. This study renders men 
acute, inquisitive, dexterous, prompt in at- 
tack, ready in defense, full of resources. In 
other countries, the people, more simple, and 
of a less mercurial cast, judge of an ill prin- 
ciple in government only by an actual griev- 
ance; here they anticipate the evil, and judge 
of the pressure of the grievance by the bad- 
ness of the principle. They augur misgov- 
ernment at a distance; and snuff the ap- 
proach of tyranny in every tainted breeze. 

The last cause of this disobedient spirit in 
the colonies is hardly less powerful than the 
rest, as it is not merely moral, but laid deep 
in the natural constitution of things. Three 
thousand miles of ocean lie between you and 
them. No contrivance can prevent the effect 
of this distance in weakening government. 
Seas roll, and months pass, between the order 
and the execution ; and the want of a speedy 
explanation of a single point is enough to de- 
feat a whole system. You have, indeed, 
winged ministers of vengeance, who carry 
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your bolts in their pounces to the remotest 
verge of the sea. But there a power steps in 
that limits the arrogance of raging passions 
and furious elements, and says, "So far shalt 
thou go, and no farther." Who are you, that 
should fret and rage, and bite the chains of 
nature? Nothing worse happens to you 
than does to all nations who have extensive 
empire; and it happens in all the forms into 
which empire can be thrown. In large 
bodies, the circulation of power must be less 
vigorous at the extremities. Nature has said 
it. The Turk cannot govern Egypt, and 
Arabia, and Curdistan, as he governs 
Thrace; nor has he the same dominion in 
Crimea and Algiers, which he has at Brusa 
and Smyrna. Despotism itself is obliged to 
truck and huckster. The Sultan gets such 
obedience as he can. He governs with a 
loose rein, that he may govern at all ; and the 
whole of the force and vigor of his authority 
in his centre is derived from a prudent re- 
laxation in all his borders. Spain, in her 
provinces, is, perhaps, not so well obeyed as 
you are in yours. She complies too; she 
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Burke 

submits ; she watches times. This is the 
immutable condition, the eternal law, of ex- 
tensive and detached empire. 

Then. Sir, from these six capital sources : 
of descent ; of form of government ; of re- 
ligion in the northern provinces ; of manners 
in the southern ; of education ; of the remote- 
ness of situation from the first mover of gov- 
ernment — from all these causes a fierce spirit 
of liberty has grown up. It has grown with 
the growth of the people in your colonies, 
and increased with the increase of their 
wealth ; a spirit, that unhappily meeting with 
an exercise of power in England, which, 
however lawful, is not reconcilable to any 
ideas of liberty, much less with theirs, has 
kindled this flame that is ready to consume 
us. 

COMMENT AND QUESTIONS 

The paragraphs quoted above constitute 
only one section of Burke's great speech on 
"Conciliation with America". It will indi- 
cate, however, the manner in which a propo- 
sition may be argued and proved. 
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Point out in the part quoted ( 1 ) the main 
proposition proved, (2) the number of dis- 
stinct points brought forward to prove this 
proposition, (3) the amount of space de- 
voted to each of these points together with 
the probable reason for the difference in the 
space given them, (4) the main words and 
sentences that connect these various points 
and that show he is proving one proposition 
not two or more, (5) the words in which he 
ties all these together at the end. Make a 
brief of the quotation similar to the one 
shown in the text. Note the order in which 
the topics come. Can you suggest a reason 
for this order? 



[172] 



CHAPTER EIGHT 

HELPFUL SUGGESTIONS 

Finally, it may prove helpful if I sug- 
gest ways in which the foregoing princi- 
ples may be put into effect and set down 
a list of stories that may be told, questions 
that may be debated, subjects to be worked 
up into speeches, and) give a list of books 
that may be studies, as supplementary read- 
ing, in both story-telling and in debating. 

Subjects for Speeches 

The following suggestive subjects! for 
addresses should, before being taken and 
worked up, be carefully considered with a 
view to seeing whether . they are narrow 
enough ,to suit the purpose, and time in- 
volved in the particular speech to be given. 

1. "Mormonism," a Religion, not a sect. 

2. Joseph Smith and Brigham Young, 
a comparison. 

3. The "Mormon" Ideal of Manhood. 

4. The "Mormon" Ideal of Womanhood. 

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5. 


What "Mormonism" Has Done for 


Me. 




6. 


Free Speech. 


7. 


Capital and Labor. 


8. 


The Saloon Must Go. 


9. 


The Cigarette Advertisement. 


10. 


Charity, Wise and Otherwise. 


11. 


The Ethics of War. 


12. 


The United States and World-peace. 


13. 


Drifting. 


14. 


"Better Be Right than President." 


15. 


Public and Private Justice. 


16. 


Leadership. 



Questions for Debate 

The following are just suggestions for 
questions to be debated. Before they are 
debated, they should be properly formed, ac- 
cording to the suggestions made in the 
text : 

1. Should the tariff be taken out of 
politics ? 

2. Should Congress have enacted an eight- 
hour law for railroads ? 

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Helpful Suggestions 



3. Should cities be managed by a commis- 
sion or by one man as manager? 

4. Should secret societies be prohibited in 
public schools? 

5. Should the amusements of a commu- 
nity be under private or public control ? 

6. Should women get the same wage as 
men for the same work ? 

7. Should street cars be under private or 
public ownership? 

8. The same for electric lighting. 

9. The same for railroads. 

10. Should free employment bureaus be 
provided by the state ? 

11. Should the President of the United 
States be limited to one term of six years ? 

12. Should the President of the United 
States be elected by direct vote of the peo- 
ple? 

13. Should one be a partisan or an inde- 
pendent in politics? 

14. Should; all our public officers be sub- 
ject to recall? 

15. Is the boycott a justifiable weapon in 
the hands of labor? 

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16. Should the middle-man be eliminated 
from our industrial system? 
List of Books for Reference: 

"Stories and Story-telling," by Edward 
Porter St. John. 

"The Art of Story-telling," by Marie L. 
Shedlock. 

"Public Speaking," by James Albert Win- 
ans. 

"The Art of Public Speaking," by Es- 
senwein and Carnagey. 

"Elements of Debating," by Leverett S. 
Lyon. 

"Manual of Argumentation," by Laycock 
and Spofford. 



[176] 



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